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disasterlesbiansunite · 3 years

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Just Two Things: A Young Royals Fix-It Fic

His mama had stood over him as she began talking. Wilhelm could hardly focus; the vision of the video (his video, his and Simon’s video, the video of Simon) burned into his brain on a constant loop. She hadn't asked him if he was alright, not yet, but he had stopped expecting her to early on in life. Duty first, he guessed, as usual. She pulled away and off the bed, rattled off the words about the interview he’ll do to protect the royal family et cetera, et cetera.

“I don’t want you to see Simon for the time being,” she said, and he glanced up, suddenly feeling like his world is fell away underneath him. He wished Erik were here, that Erik was still alive. If he were, then maybe this would all go away. He doubted any of it could now.

August brought him dinner that night when he’s too exhausted to even leave his bed. He said that Erik would want Wille to be himself - but how is August so sure of what Erik would want him to do to fix this, to just get this whole shitshow over with, when the only person who knows that is six feet under.

“Follow your heart, really.” August said. “Follow your heart.”

If anything his heart only thought of two things at the moment. One is the crumpled up rage he feels that’s been broiling under his skin since he saw the video; the screaming, panicked wild thing that wants to shout at the world and watch it shouts back until no part of him remains, no crown prince, nothing.

The other part of his brain thought of Simon. Holding him, soft and warm until his skin, kissing his neck and inhaling as much of him as possible. Kissing him, kissing Simon, an exhilarating feeling he can’t describe, he won’t ever be able to describe. Almost all of the girls he had kissed had kissed gently and slowly, like they were afraid he would disappear right next to them. It always felt like he was being kissed by air, a ghostly possession that was over in a second and just as uncomfortable.

He would have thought that Simon would kiss like that, he had thought Simon would kiss like that, Simon had kissed like that, before they really truly got to know one another. Now, Simon kissed hard and rough, like he knew Wilhelm wouldn’t disappear but just as quick, aware he couldn’t have him by himself ever. Simon’s kiss had the edge of sandpaper, tough grit and fine smoothness rolled into one. Simon kissed for the sake of it, like there was so much he wanted to do to Wille, do with Wille, that he simply couldn’t function enough to do anything but kiss him. Wille fell asleep soon after that, dinner discarded. He wondered if the last time they would ever kiss would be the time that caused both of him to want to recoil from society and away from the world. A part of him hoped so.

The nail on his thumb was raw and bleeding.

As he walked through Hillerska, everyone stared at him in pity. He was used to the stares, used to the way his simple presence shut up people around until all they could do was give him a dumb look. It was pity that was new to him, but he tried not to focus on that as Malin rushed with him to his first class of the day. He knew the things they were saying, drove himself insane as he googled himself over and over again, watching Sweden’s trending page unravel until it felt like it was all over. He watched as Simon walked into their classroom, turning heads for once in his life. Once except for the amount of times he had his, of course. He mindlessly made small talk with his classmate, but all he could think of were two things.

After class he rushed into the locker room to talk to Simon. He looked sullen, his features that were generally framed in a light source of their own were moody and dark, an awkward, ill fitting portrait. He wanted to kiss it all away. Instead, kicked at Simon’s foot, hooking the two into a game of footsie.

“What the hell are we going to do?” Simon asked, wrapping his hands around Wilhelm’s, as if he had any of the answers. Breaking news, he didn’t. All he could do was sit in silence and hold Simon, it felt like the only thing he could do. Unless…

“They’ve asked me to deny it was me in that video.” He could barely get the words out.

“Serious?”

Wille hummed, unable to interpret that reaction. “They want me to make a statement at the castle on Saturday.”

Simon turned, his head moving off of Wille's shoulder in a way that feels entirely unwelcome. Put that back please. Wille had realized that he could only really function anymore in Simon’s arms. As if he wasn’t touch starved enough, but Simon was hot and didn’t mind so it didn’t really matter. “But you’re not going to do it, right?”

“I don’t want to say anything.” Simon doesn’t get it, but Wilhelm doesn’t expect him too; too impossible to explain.

“But, Wille, everyone can see that it’s me in that video,” Wille groaned. He had forgotten that slightly important detail. Simon continued, “What am I supposed to do? But no matter what, they can’t dictate what you say,” Yes, they absolutely can, they’ve done it before.

We haven’t done anything wrong.” He had forgotten that too, spending so much time yesterday going over consequences and contingencies ranging from plan A to Z it made his head bled. But no one had actually told him that they hadn’t done anything wrong. Not even August, with his love is love attitude that came out of nowhere. Not even fucking him.

Mama had been waiting for him. Mama had met Simon. She never looked twice at Wilhelm, veiled disdain souring her mouth as she stared out the window.

“What? Why can’t I just have a relationship with him? And not say anything. Just live a normal life.” He knows why. He just wants to hear her say it.

“You’re the crown prince.” And there’s the world crashing back down onto him. “And that’s a privilege, not a punishment.” It’s both actually, but whatever, mama.

“Yes, but I didn’t ask for this!” Erik should be here. Erik would know what to do.

“Well, nobody has ever, ever asked for this,” his mama shot back. He feels like a little kid again, feels like biting his thumb raw. “You’re the only one who can take over the throne after Erik. Don’t you understand that?” He wished she would just look at him.

“You’re so young. When you’re young love feels like the most important thing in the world. When I was your age, I too had an unfortunate romance.” He wants to laugh or cry or release that panicked, clawed, anxious feeling that’s always been trapped underneath his chest, beating his heart faster and faster and faster. Unfortunate romance, she said, like Simon isn’t the best thing to happen to him, like Simon wasn’t the only one holding him together, like Simon wasn’t the only real thing in his world.

He snapped back into the conversation.“Is it worth it,” she continued. “If you feel that the attention you’ve been getting so far is unacceptable, it’s nothing compared to what you will endure for the rest of your life. We have a chance to cover this up. I urge you to take this chance. You may not get another.”

With Simon on one shoulder, and his mama and the world on the other, it turns out he was going to make the statement after all. Fucking great.

He felt like throwing up, but, to be fair, when hasn’t he.

“Are you ready?” His mama asked, like he could ever be ready to announce to the world, no that definitely was not me in that tape and that boy is definitely not the love of my life, thank you very much.

He dragged his feet, as he went into the room where Rosenqvists sits. Like Mama said, they only have one chance to not fuck this up.

Rosenqvist smiles at Wilhelm, her eyes hawkish. He musters as much of a smile as he can, playing with the buttons on his suit as the photographer directs the two around.

“It’s good to see you again, your highness.”

His eyes darted around the room. He could hear his mama and papa argue in the room they were in

“You too.”

The interview began then, menial questions about his existence that made him want to bite at his thumb. He resisted, knew that if Rosenqvist saw how his anxiety was surging through him like a freight train and mentioned it in her interview, his mama would be more angry then she already was. The questions are simple really, he barely thought about the answers and more about how Erik would have phrased them. Not like Erik would have been in this situation.

“So, Wilhelm, we both know why we’re here.” She smiled apologetically at him. Here we go. “As you are, no doubt, aware of by now there was a video from Hillerska that is going viral of what is rumored to be yourself and another male student,” she paused for a moment, uncomfortable with the what she’s about to say to a boy she’d been interviewing for most of his life, “being intimate. What do you have to say about these rumors, Crown Prince Wilhelm?” She’s less probing, then. He can tell his mom already prepped her on how exactly this interview needed to go. Fuck.

“That’s not-” his words got stuck in his throat.

“That’s not you in the video?” She filled, looking more and more saddened with each word, more maternal that he thinks he’s seen anyone in his entire life. He wanted to nod, wanted to do what his mama wanted for him, wanted to listen to what she feels is best for their country, because it is theirs now, isn’t it? Erik is dead and gone and never coming back no matter how much Wilhelm wishes he had been able to keep him alive. Wilhelm doesn’t exactly know much about what it takes to be king, not like Erik did, but he’s pretty sure a leaked tape is one thing a king is not supposed to have on his record. Wilhelm should want to deny the rumors, so why does it feel like every time he tries to open his mouth that it’s filled with cotton, that panicked wild thing grabbing hold of his brain and shaking it like his snowglobe. It’s begging him to choose the path of least resistance. And then there was Simon. Simon with his pretty soft voice and his even softer lips. Simon with his kind eyes and hands and just Simon, Simon, Simon. Simon, who has already been broken by the video and if Wilhelm denies their relationship then he’ll only break more. The only things he can think about. Just two things. Two things he can’t seem to choose between.

He took a deep breath. Erik would have wanted him to follow his heart, would have said that that would be how he becomes a great king. By being kind and good, and wholly himself.

He chose.

Simon’s mama shouts for a rematch as he laughed into his snack.

Ayub tensed next to him, “Oh, shit.”

“What’s up?” Simon asked, confused. Did his dad ask him to go home or something?

Instead, Ayub read from his phone: an online copy of this week’s Göteborgs-Posten screenshotted and reposted to Twitter. “The Crown Prince addresses rumors of Viral Video.”

“What?” He could have sworn Willie had said he wouldn’t do the interview. His mom and Sara exchange glances.

Ayub read on, “While the Royal Court denies rumors that the Crown Prince appears in the video that has gone viral this past week, his royal highness Prince Wilhelm goes more in depth on his time at Hillerska and the events surrounding the video. He says, ‘I started at Hillerska to focus on my studies and have kept to that.’ At this moment, the prince pauses and grows quiet.

‘That’s not the entire truth. The truth is that that is me in the video. I do not know who took it or why but the facts remain the same. There are many people who would want me to not address the rumors surrounding me at this time, and some even would want me to outright deny them, but I disagree. If I am to be king, and no matter what happens from this I will be king, I want to be the kind of king the people can be proud of, the kind of king my brother would have been, and the kind of king that if he saw me he’d be proud of. And that starts by being genuine and being myself to the citizens of Sweden and to the world.’ ‘Everyone should be allowed to live as gay or straight or whatever they want,’ says the Crown Prince. ‘And I suppose the former includes me, but I would still like this time to decide further who I am and what kind of king I will be.’”

Simon is stunned. Of all things, he didn’t think of this as even an option. He fishes his phone out of his pocket.

To Wille: just read the interview, what. the. fuck.

From Wille: Is that a good “what. the. fuck!!!” or a “bad what. the. fuck?!?”

To Wille: you’re so brave, wille, thank you

To Wille: also according to ayub youre trending as “gay king wilhelm” on twitter rn

From Wille: Fuck yeah, bow down to your king. Meet me before school starts tomorrow, courtyard?

To Wille: see you then, gay king willie

As Simon approached the school - having already been stopped by four journalists, three photographers, two nosy neighbors and one blogger - he could see as Wille nervously paced at the edge of the courtyard, his hand rubbed deep into his chest, shirt creasing around it. Simon couldn't even begin to imagine what had happened in the palace after Wille’s interview. From what he saw the queen didn’t really strike him as the accepting type, but that was one of those things he’d let Wille discuss on his own time. He snuck up behind Wille instead, held his arms and kissed his neck.

“Hello, my prince,” he said and twirled Wille around and into his arms. Wille let out a little sigh of relief and if he could have held Willie there for forever he would. Wille smiles at him and kisses him on the cheek.

“Can we just go one day Simon without having your weird relationship issues making a scene,” Sara huffed past and quickened her pace to the school. Simon hadn’t noticed the stares, it felt like everyone in the courtyard had been watching them from Felice to August to other boarders Simon couldn’t name, but that had definitely called him names. Simon can’t bring himself to care anymore.

“I’m so proud of you, Wille.” Wilhelm let out a little noise, the only amount of negative emotion that being schooled on refinement since before he could talk would allow. He grabbed at Simon’s coat and drew him in for a hug.

“I love you,” Wille said and suddenly Simon’s whole world had shrunk down to three words.

Wille quickly ended the hug and walked towards the school, his bodyguards following quick after. Simon speed walked up to him and grabbed his hand, “I love you too.” Wille broke out into that tiny golden smile Simon loved to tease out and grabbed Simon’s hand.

The stares followed but Simon didn’t care. “Just two things left,” he said, “Get through this last day before break and then find whoever took that video.”

“And then?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet,”

Wille hummed and played with Simon’s as they settled at the doorway of their first class of the day, “You might want to work on your plans.”

“No, my plan only needs those two things.” Simon messied with Wilhelm’s hair and strolled into the classroom.

Wille followed after one hand fixing his hair, the other clutching at Simon’s hand, muttering, “Just two things?”

Just two things.

#if this is bad im sorry #young royals netflix #young royals #wilhelm x simon #fic writing #yes they are my comfort characters #after like two days #character study #myownfics

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

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The Emperor Part 2: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

synopsis: a blight strikes the Imperial Palace, and you're caught in the middle of it all.

wc: 1.7k

tw: straight fluff

masterlist

Soft whispers of the fever spreading through the country reach your door in almost record timing.

And while Toji does not address it directly, you know his intentions as you lay in his arms, listening to him divulge the most recent reports.

"I'm a little worried," he admits, and you stroke his arm carefully, looking up at his pensive face.

"You will do what you know is best," you reply and touch his cheek. "You're the emperor, appointed by the gods and their heavenly mandate. All you need to do is listen to their wisdom." Toji takes your hand and kisses your wrist, his green eyes closing.

"I am always astounded by the comforting words you share, my little nightingale." You smile, curling the same hand around his shoulder before sighing, and drifting off to sleep with his warm body nestling yours.

But the fever does not pass by your house.

The first concubine to get it showed no symptoms, and it spread like wildfire throughout the halls of the palace, even daring to touch the advisor to the emperor before Toji began to send each concubine back to her own hometown for safety.

Your safety.

You watch as the palace dissolves into a ghost town, the sounds of women and Princess Tsumiki vanishing almost overnight. And Toji becomes the only visitor to your chambers, even when he is not desiring to sleep with you. He confesses his worries, curls into your frame, and even bemoans his predicament before falling asleep in your arms. Most nights, Toji just lays with you in the bed, speculating about how long it would be until the blight would end. And you offer your best words to ease his troubled soul, but soon, it's apparent they are not enough.

Then, one night, you awaken with chills and a cold sweat running down your spine. You thank the gods that this was a night when Toji did not come to lay with you, citing strategy meetings with the country's best doctors as his reason. And when you cough loud enough to call the attention of a maid outside of your door, you know that you might be seriously ill.

"Do not tell the Emperor," you beg the doctor, who looks down at you with pity. "Just tell him I am menstruating." But the lie only keeps Toji at bay for an hour or two, at most.

When the door slides open in the morning and Toji walks in, you see two of him in your sickly haze. But you know there is only one Toji Fushiguro and that he was not pleased to see you in your bed, sheets pulled around your weak frame.

"Please," you croak, waving your hand. "Don't come any closer, Your Holiness."

"Toji," he corrects you, kneeling by your bed and taking your hand. "And you cannot command me to do anything."

"I am unwell," you whisper. "Let me recover before you return. I do not want you to get ill. Our country needs you."

"But I need you," Toji rebuffs. "I'm staying right here until you get better. If I catch the fever, then we will be sick together." You do not have the strength to argue, so a chair and a table are brought for Toji to work and stay by your side through the day and night. As you fade in and out of your sickness, you see him hard at work, glancing over at you every so often, hear him arguing with the doctors outside of the door, and feel him gripping your hand in his as he kneels at your beside, praying to the gods feverishly when there is no one else around.

You can barely eat, at one point only drinking water, and you sleep most of the day away that you don't even recall which day it is when you do awaken. And Toji remains by your side, even as you catch signs of the fever letting up; the sounds of life return to the palace as you slowly recover.

It is a crisp, autumn evening when you finally have the strength to be wheeled into the garden, a large blanket covering your legs as Toji pushes you around and comments about the flowers that are blooming. You're touching a chrysanthemum when Toji sighs, looking out at the massive space.

"I'm not calling the others back." Your eyes slide to the Emperor, who crosses his arms and nods his head as if this was the moment for him to make up his mind. "I'll pay for them to have all of the comforts they had here... but I will not ask them to return."

"Are you sure, Your Holiness?"

Toji clenches his jaw, biting the side of his lip that's scarred.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"But I have not given you a s--"

"I don't care." The discussion is ended at that moment, for you know the Emperor is not one to be persuaded when he has made up his mind. You watch as the letters go out, along with the monthly payments, and Toji watches you regain your strength, his conviction about his decision growing every day.

_____________________________________________________________

Illness strikes you again as soon as you feel like things are normal. As you lay in the royal chambers with cool towels on your forehead, you wonder if this is a punishment from the gods.

Nausea plagues you, and even though you desire to eat anything and everything, you throw it up as soon as it's been digested.

And Toji? Toji is frustrated.

"I will not permit visitors to the palace. I will not allow you to step one foot out of these doors. You will be fed by my hand, and no one will be permitted to handle you except me." You listen to him growl at you while you chew on ginger root, your blank stare focused on his face. "Do you hear me, y/n?"

"Yes, your Holiness," you reply, but something in you tells you that this isn't the kind of sickness he thinks it is. Your suspicion is confirmed when your cheeks get redder and rounder and you gain a little weight, the small bulge beneath your clothing showing slightly. Even the doctors stare at Toji with blank and idle eyes, wondering when he would catch on to the fact that you were growing.

Toji stands at the window one night, fiddling with his robes when you approach him from behind and hold him close.

"I love you," you whisper, and he looks over his shoulder at you, lips quirking up in a smile.

"You want something, don't you? You only use that tone when you're about to ask me a question," he laughs. "Whatever it is, you can have it."

"I already have everything I want," you reply, kissing his back. "Besides, you've been so busy being the Emperor that you haven't noticed the changes in your own home."

"Hm? Do you mean the new trees? I had them planted for their blossoms but it seems--"

"Your home, Toji."

"This is my home," he murmurs, turning around to face you, eyebrow raised. "Is there something you need to tell me?" When you grab his hand and place it on your belly, Toji stares at you, then frowns. "Um..."

"Feel," you encourage him again, holding his hand captive.

"Little nightingale, I am not sure why you have me feeling your--" Toji stops, his green eyes looking off into the corner of the room as his fingers roam back and forth across your stomach. He blinks twice, pulls his hand back, then quickly grabs the hem of your nightgown and ducks underneath.

"TojI!" you exclaim, but you feel his hands touching and exploring, and hear him talking to himself excitedly.

"How long?" Toji wonders underneath your dress, movements stilling.

"Um..."

"How long?" he repeats eagerly and you laugh, placing your hand on his head.

"I think it's only been two months." Toji reemerges from under your gown and clasps your shoulders.

"Your feet, are they always cold?" You search Toji's face before whispering,

"Yes...?" The light in his eyes is impossible to dim. His face brightens considerably, and then he begins to pace around the room.

"Right, cold feet..." He begins to tick his fingers off one by one, muttering to himself again.

"My love, is everything alright?" you wonder, lacing your fingers together as he runs his hands through his dark hair and turns back to you.

"I've just been told you're with child. I'm among the happiest men in the world, sweet one." His fingers touch your face tenderly, and you lean into his palm, smiling. "But you must get your rest. We will talk about it with the priests in the morning."

"Priests?" you wonder as he shuffles you toward the bed. "What do they have to do with--"

"And think of names for our son," he urges you, pulling the sheets around your frame. "I will plan the celebration as soon as I hear from the gods."

_____________________________________________________________

"What if we named him... Kosuke?" You wonder, playing with Toji's hair in the morning light. Toji sticks his tongue out and makes a 'yuck' noise, and you purse your lips.

"How about Sachihiro?"

"That's a mouthful," you reply, and he rolls his eyes, exhaling deeply. "Maybe Tatsuo?"

"Dragon?" Toji laughs, looking over at you. "You want me to name him after my rivals in the East?"

"Don't talk about Emperor Geto like that," you mutter, swatting his arm. "He's been so kind."

"He's been so nosy," Toji retorts, just as Princess Tsumiki comes running into the room, followed by her attendant, who appears to be extremely apologetic as she tries to scoop her up. "No, no," Toji mumbles. "Leave her be."

"Let's ask the Princess what she thinks," you suggest, and Toji nods, standing from his seated position on the floor.

"Tsumiki, what would you like to name your little brother?" he asks, pulling her up into his arms.

"Mango," she replies, sticking her fingers in her mouth. Toji looks over at you, unamused.

"Sure, we'll name him mango," you offer, smiling at the girl who leans over to touch your face lovingly. "It's your favorite fruit, after all." Toji tilts his head, then inhales sharply, eyes widening.

"Megumi," he breathes, and you raise your brows sharply.

"Blessings," you whisper, and he nods, eyes locking with yours as his smile widens. "Megumi..." You try the name out on your tongue, finding it fits quite nicely.

"Megumi."

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji fluff #jujutsu kaisen toji #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro

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mskimkaty · 3 years

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I AM THAT GIRL

angst, slight fluff, smut

WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF DEPRESSION, MENTAL ILLNESS, SUICIDE, SELFHARM, DRAMA, SMUT, VANILA SMUT, SWEARING, KIM JENNIE IS A BITCH HERE AND SO OTHER MENTION REAL LIFE PEOPLE BUT ITS PURELY FICTIONAL.

synopsis:Johnny Suh, the most popular boy in college, tried to take his life? what could possibly go wrong with his wealthy background, popularity, and basically having everything in the palm of his hands?

expected word count: 12,692

release date: 01/18/21 (somehow, got deleted. so Im reposting)

details: college!au, strangers to friends to lovers!au.

JohnnySuh x reader.

Johnny Suh walked the hallways in his college ground and not one passerby gives him the freedom to do his business. Students give him a look of pity, as acquaintances try to give him fake words of comfort that disgustingly crawls at the back of his skin.

They were just into the gossip, but they never really care. It was obvious from how they whisper behind his back for looking out of place and out of character, he could see their mocking gazes every time he walks past them.

he pulled his hood up and covered his old blonde hair now dyed into jet black, the usual smile plastered on his lips was now in a tight line and was placed the usually friendly demeanor with a scowl on his face.

people are staring, not in a good way, but because he looks ridiculous in their minds.

"Youngho, if you need anything, I'd gladly do it for you." Johnny heard his Korean name roll of someone's lips and now he feels disgusted with himself for the 9th time that day, he was back to zero and the acid rushes past his throat and he might vomit with the anxiety building up in the pit of his stomach upon hearing his birth name. He halts his movements and turns around to face Kim Jennie.

How does she have the nerve to say that when she cheated on him with Jongin? He treated him like a brother. Her hands travel on his biceps, the usual warmth he felt in the past now buried at the back of his memories, and now, he's just disgusted with her. He ignored her and continued walking past her, Jennie's peers were instantly beside her to console her with words of comfort because her ex-lover practically brushes her off like she was nothing.

You didn't expect a drama unfolding in front of you while standing in your locker area, Christmas break was finally over, and now students are back putting their noses in other people's business. Especially, Johnny Suh's business.

You shrugged your shoulders and walks back to your class, this is definitely a way to start your first day at this University.

Johnny sat at the far back of the room, sporting unusual dark clothing rather than the usual light colors of his wardrobe, the professor walks in, shaking his head upon seeing him at the back completely not understanding how Johnny's mind works.

Johnny knows, just by the look his professor is giving at him, he knew and have seen that twice already — he couldn't control the urge to stand up harshly making the chair he was using falls down to the ground as he walks to the door not bothering to look back, stunning everybody in the room.

When Johnny came back to school after his attempt, he felt more pulled down in the darkest pit inside him, he was unhappy more than he did when he was attempting. The funny part? when people knew about his attempt, people started flocking around him as they cared, but it was obvious. They just wanted to be with him because of his surname and money.

Even Jennie did not differ from the other students trying to impress him. The sad part about it is that he genuinely liked her, but she was just up for it because of the money and fame, and maybe the good fuck. His friends were no different, people might think that he's happy being the captain of the football team, but his life was toxic with every moment. He was in more pain than ever, his friends who were his teammates low-key discarded him thinking he's a freak saying he needed to seek attention.

Johnny knew that they weren't practically saying that to his face, but they were showing it.

They weren't wrong, he knew that, but it was different. They were all trying to impress him, worshiping the ground he walks on and now he's on the rocky side of the road, they drop him? because their parents told them to?

Johnny empties his locker, blindly shoving everything in his duffle bag when his best friend, Kim Jongin, walks inside. He hardly shoved everything inside his bag and harshly closed his locker's door, scowling at the older boy.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" he heard him. "This isn't you at all, why are you suddenly changing? Johnny, I already said I'm sorry." that's the ugly fact. People around him are blind enough not to notice the slight changes in him and the little signs that he wasn't mentally stable.

"This isn't an apology. You're asking me to suck it up. It's Different."

Lunch came and Johnny has nowhere to go, not with all the pity looks the student body is giving him, he had a take-out for his meal and had his lunch alone in an empty room. deciding he has no appetite to eat something, he walked out of the building and drove out to Nakamoto Yuta's basement. He's supposed to be dead two weeks before this day, but here he was, seeking for Yuta's dirty business.

"Johnny Suh." Nakamoto Yuta was known for his dirty business around campus, selling overpriced illegal transactions under the table, tattoos, and piercing. "Stop talking like I'm some god. No god would try to kill himself."

"figures."

"I don't understand, how are you still in the university and not behind bars?" Johnny asks after taking a long drag on his blunt.

"This is the only way to have food on the table, and I need to graduate. I rather do these than sell my body."

Sadly enough when Johnny checked his phone, no calls or messages from his parents. As cliche as it sounds, he wants his father to check on him but after seeing him in his room bathed in his blood on the ground, his father drifted more away from him.

When he got home that night, his family was having dinner without him, his younger sister, Yerim, ran up to him and hugged him. "Oppa, where have you been? I've been calling you." his sister was the only purest being for him, and he distances himself around her, he doesn't want him to expose her to things that only he knew.

"Yerim, go to your room." the impersonal voice of their father surrounds the dining area and Yerim flinch. looking up to his eyes before walking away.

Kim Ji hoon walks up to him and looks at him with disdain. "Stop being a disgrace, If you can't act like your invisible. I don't need a disgrace in this house." It wasn't new to Johnny anymore.

His father may not be vocal about it in the past but he knew that his father doesn't want him to breathe the same air he does, if God may allow it, he knows that his father wanted him dead, he wanted his father to acknowledged him, and he did everything, that was when Johnny was kissing up to his reputation of being the good son, ace-ing all his grades, being the captain of the football team, doing unnecessary extracurricular activities for extra points, being the good boyfriend, good friend, good son, and a good brother, but it was all too much for him, he felt that he was borrowing someone's life to the point that he doesn't recognize him anymore.

His father hated him so much that he didn't even give him his last name, and the ugly part about it is that Johnny understood his father because he was the reason his mother died. "You can't even do one thing properly, and now everyone living in this town knows about you killing yourself."

"Are you saying that I didn't properly kill myself?" he wanted to vomit. He chuckled as he ran his hands down his locks. "Go fuck yourself," he murmured and walk down to the guest room where he was temporarily sleeping, his step-mother hasn't asked the helpers to clean his room's carpet that is still bathed in his blood, he looked at his wrist that is covered in a bandage, the ugly reminder that he was unhappy and that there is no saving from this anymore. Finding the reason to wake up was hard enough and going to school was another thing, but he did anyway.

People still gossip behind his back, ugly as it sounds, people are disgustingly twisted. He smirked upon hearing he still looked hot as fuck with black hair, one student saying she would gladly do him, blonde or black.

"Jennie must have cheated knowing that he's a freak."

"hey, he might hear you, lower your voice."

"He needs to seek professional help."

"I don't understand him at all. His popular, his ex-girlfriend was fucking hot, he's rich, has great looks, and has a hella hot of a sister." something snapped inside him when he heard some asshole talked disgustingly about his sister.

Before he could even think properly, Johnny repulsively pushed the guy up to the wall. "The hell!" the stranger shouted as the other students stop to stare.

"Did you fucking talked about my sister like that?"

People are staring not because of an aggressive man pushing a full-grown body against the wall like it's nothing. it's not uncommon to see a fistfight for the entire student body to see, people are staring because, Johnny Suh, for once stunned everybody with his demeanor that is completely out of his character. Yes, he is a big guy, but he was kind, sweet, and friendly, so Johnny using force for the first time against someone was a sight to see, added to the fact that this is the first time people heard him cursing, and If eyes could kill already, the guy who talked shit about his sister is practically dead right now, he would brush it off in the past, blindly ignoring gossip about him but this is the first time that someone disrespects his sister right in front of his face and definitely, it is the first time that he gave less fuck about his reputation.

Johnny stared at the man that lacks the urge to answer him, him sending shivers down the stranger's spine. He manhandled the guy and throw him down the floor. "You had the nerve to run that filthy mouth against my sister but doesn't have the balls to answer when I'm confronting you?" he smirked and walked away.

Johnny spent the whole week going to the university but doesn't bother attending his classes, he doesn't want to be left alone at home but doesn't want to go to his classes. He just lost every motivation to do something productive.

Johnny walked his usual path these past few days, going to an empty room on the 4th floor of the Marketing's building to kill time, he gently pushed open the door and saw you changing your clothes. You were almost done, putting your white dress shirt over your shoulder without noticing that you're giving a stranger a free show.

Johnny freezes up, staring and lingering more than usual. He was mesmerized by how your skin glistens under the light slipping through the windows, but what made him stop on his track is the lack of hair you have in your body. It's just smooth skin all over your body.

When you felt someone behind you, you turn your body around to look at the intruder, you saw someone and instantly locked eyes with him. At first, you were scared of seeing Suh Johnny behind you, Johnny got a full view of your unbuttoned shirt and your chest clad in your undergarments. it's not like you saw a ghost, he didn't die per se, but then it has drawn to you, that Johnny, in the flesh, saw you changing clothes. Your reflex acts up and you turn yourself away from him, pulling your clothes to hug yourself, you fix your buttons as you run out to get out of the embarrassment.

The next day, you went to your usual spot in the library to eat your lunch when you saw somebody sitting on your chair. You shrug your shoulders and sit across the stranger who had his head tucked in his arms on the table. You were excited to eat your favorite sandwich because your mother specially made it for you, it was a rare moment given your mother raised you and your sibling alone, having to work two jobs at a time just to put food on the table and to send you to a good school. You appreciate her and love her with all your heart, she was the only one you had next to your older brother, you were good at being invisible, it was your last semester at the university. Trying to finish one subject and your practicum silently like you didn't exist at all. You laughed at the fact that you had no one in this damn hell, but you didn't care.

You started eating your sandwich in silence while opening a good book to read, you were happy in your bubble. Johnny must have heard you as you flip pages after pages. His stomach growling after registering the wonderful smell coming from his surroundings. When he lifts his head, his eyes flicked to your form, silently eating while reading a book, you were so happy in your little bubble, giggling while reading. He straightens his back and you notice the guy across you, putting a face in the stranger who sleeps across you.

A blush crept up on your face when you realize it was Johnny again, you remembered the recent events that happened between the both of you, and your embarrassed ass started coughing hard, you hold your neck rather than reaching for the bottled water in front of you as you choke none stop in front of him. He was left dumbfounded for a couple of seconds but reach for the bottle and unclasp it before handing it to you, you chugged half the contents down your throat and he watched you with fascination.

"Thank you." You said in a small voice.

You put the bottle back in its place as silence hangs in the air, it wasn't a bad kind of silence, but it was awkward. You offer him the other half of your sandwich as you watch him look at you questioningly. "Your hungry." It wasn't a question. You knew he was hungry given you kept hearing his stomach growling a while ago. "You know a little food won't hurt you right?"

Johnny laughs at your ironic statement but accepts your offer anyway, "Don't get your hopes up, I'm not up for a casual relationship." he says as you thought that he wouldn't accept your offer, given that he's rich and can buy a much better lunch than what you're currently having, but then again, you shouldn't judge a book by its cover.

"I was just offering you food."

"Thanks." When he finished your sandwich rather quickly, he went back to sleeping in front of you. He liked hearing the sound of you flipping pages after pages as you read your book silently in front of him and the occasional giggle you let out when read something funny. When he woke up to go home, you were gone, but you left your coat as you hung it around his shoulders to keep him warm.

When he came back the day after, in the library, you didn't come back.

The next morning, Johnny awoke earlier than usual, heading to his car without giving a glance at his family, Yerim saw him and was rather puzzled at the baby pink coat he was holding delicately in his arms. He drove fast to get to the university, walking inside the library to wait for you if ever you were going to be there again.

Lunch came, and your guess was right, you see the same blacked haired boy taking a nap in your usual spot with your coat right beside him. You sat across him again and started minding your business, but this time, you had another bag of sandwiches repaired for him. You weren't ignorant about Johnny's attempt, but you choose to respect his space, you knew that he wasn't mentally stable yet. He might look fine outside and you might not know what goes inside his head, but you knew that he isn't fine. No one's mentally stable, everybody has their hardships in their private lives going on right now, but the important thing is that people shouldn't use it against someone, and as long as they don't step on other people to feel better for themselves then it's good.

You might not understand what he's going through right now, you weren't friends, to begin with, but you feel for him. Sincerely.

Johnny felt peaceful for once after many years, it was an odd feeling, but it wasn't bad. You were browsing your phone, checking your emails and your mother's, clearing and archiving unimportant ones. You look at the time and it was already half past lunchtime. Wednesday is a pain in the ass for you, you have to wait for 5 hours until your next class in the afternoon. You didn't notice Johnny waking from his nap, seeing as you still haven't touched the sandwich bags in front of you, he's guessing you still haven't eaten.

"I'm Johnny."

You look at the man in front of you, his usual strawberry locks are now turned into black, sporting a gray hoodie over his black shirt and matching gray track pants. You study his expression, his not extending his hands for a handshake nor his face valid of any emotion, yet you smile and said "What happened to not being in a casual relationship?"

Johnny was taken back, you give him the sweetest smile you could offer and handed him the extra sandwich you had, "You know, some people would reply with their names." he said as he accepts the food that you offered, you look at him as if contemplating before speaking.

"Y/n"

"I'm not sure, but what department are you from?" he asked after taking a bite of his food. "This is good, by the way. Who made this?"

"What question do you want me to answer first?" you asked laughing. "My mom made it, and I'm from the same department as you, Though, I just transferred to this school after the Holidays,

If he was shocked he didn't show it, Johnny nods his head as if acknowledging you, "I just want time to pass by quickly and silently, that's why no one knows I exist here. I'm just trying to live another day until I graduate." You said making Johnny fall silent.

"Good for you," he replied after a good minute with the both of you munching on your foods. "Was it hard?" he asked.

"What is?"

"You don't seem to have anyone, do you even have friends?" you laughed at his statement because it was the truth. "Yeah, something like that. It wasn't that bad I might have no friends because I choose not to have any relationships with anybody in here."

"That sucks, I'm not going to ask the reason why you transferred in the middle of the semester because that's your business, not mine," he says, you study his face and you weren't sure whether to run your mouth over his business or not, deciding against it you stood up and take your things with you. "Let me show you something."

Walking down the stairs while both of you kept a little distance, you lead him to the visual room, pulling the keys in your backpack and unlocking it. "Why do you have a key to the AVR?" he asks bewildered.

"Perks of being the teacher's pet," you replied as you pulled him inside, turning the computer and projector on, you played a video about constellations and aimed the projector above.

Stars hover above the two of you and you urge him to lay down beside you, looking up and taking a moment of peace to embrace both of you.

"When things get hard and I tend to be alone; let's be honest, no one wants to feel lonely, especially at the hardest times of our lives. But then, you can't force someone to be there with you physically and emotionally and it sucks to have yourself suck it up for being alone. So, I do this, I take my time staring at these constellations. You see, they're really beautiful to me. I find them fascinating, they have this beautiful meaning behind them, it was always fun finding their patterns, connecting them until they're complete, you just have to look closely, in that way, you'll appreciate them more." you smile while pointing above you, he might not look at you but your presence beside him does him wonders, it was so powerful that even if he closes his eyes, he still feels you beside him. The warmth he was feeling coming from you, your steady breathing, and your sweet scent.

You spent your Mondays and Wednesdays with Johnny, eating lunch together, or spending time as you watch different constellations every week.

Friday morning, you made a quick detour to your department before clocking in for your practicum, before leaving the premises a professor asked you for a favor and you agreed to make a copy of the files she was asking for. When you came back from the printing room, you saw a commotion ahead. It wasn't you to pry on other people's business, but your legs must have their mind when you saw a familiar tall build that is clad in a black hoodie.

Johnny Suh stands in the middle with Kim Jongin and Kim Jennie on the other side. He was hyperventilating.

"Just leave, please." Kim Jongin shouted at him, you can see the obvious horror written on everyone's faces. Kim Jennie was stuck beside Jongin as she shed tears silently, disbelief written in Johnny's face.

"Do you know what went wrong? it's because you were never enough." Jennie drops the bomb for everyone to hear, Johnny was livid. If he could crush everything that he could see he would take the chance and do it. If he could take his life again, he wouldn't give a single fuck and he'll gladly do it.

"I can't believe you both. I wasn't the one who cheated with my best friend, why the fuck do you act like it's my fault?" you heard Johnny said and for the first time your heart broke for him.

You found him in your usual spot in the library, his head hanging low and his body shaking as he tries to catch his breath. You drop your coat over his head and give him the bottle of water you were holding, instead of sitting across him, you sat next to him without overstepping and respecting his space to cool down.

When he started to calm down, he handed your coat back to you, stood up, and left the library. Saying you were dumbfounded was an understatement but you choose to understand him.

Days passed by and Johnny was still a no show. When a week has already passed without seeing Johnny, you started to get worried. You wished you asked for his number, but then again, you weren't even that close, to begin with. You decide to spend your long-vacant in the visual room, playing random constellations as you think about a certain boy.

When that certain boy suddenly appeared right in front of you. "I'm sorry." He had his hands inside his grey sweatpants.

"What matters is that you came."

Johnny joined you on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, after a moment of silence, he spoke up. "Why did you help me? why do you even care about me at all? I'm a mess."

"Aren't we friends?" You asked even though it was clear that he turned your offer of friendship down a while ago.

"What you said about the constellations earlier made me realize how I took myself for granted and at the same time how ungrateful I am."

You look at him and give him the chance to speak up. "I didn't have the will to live, do you know that you are annoyingly optimistic about everything?" He jokingly asked, and you laughed with him.

"Is that a compliment or what?"

"I still don't have a reason to be here." He suddenly says. Johnny looks at your face as if reading you, he was prepared to see you pitying him but there was none.

"You don't have to look for it. You have yourself because, at the end of the day, you only got your own back," you turn to him as you give him a look. Johnny envied you, it was obvious, and you can read him like an open book. "Don't, don't look at me like that, Johnny Suh." the way his name rolled down your tongue felt flawless, as if you were born to say his name out loud.

"We all have our shortcomings, I'm not perfect nor are people around me, no one is, and we have to accept that fact, give less care about people who can't accept that."

"It's not as easy as it seems," Johnny says, your hand brushing back the stray hair that falls on his forehead as if your hand has a mind of its own. "Sorry-"

"It's fine. I like it." Both of you turn towards the ceiling as you continue to watch the stars, keeping the comfortable silence and just hang around each other.

For weeks, spending time in the library and the visual room to watch the stars has been your thing with Johnny Suh, you couldn't even imagine being friends with the likes of him, you view him as a constellation star, he's mysterious behind his disguise as he tends to fool everyone with, he was hard to reach and was always up above you, he brightens the surroundings like how the stars brighten the night sky, for you, he was more than the famous campus boy that everybody likes, even if he can't realize that.

Weeks passed by and you look forward to your Mondays and Wednesdays than the fact that you are graduating.

You were busy transferring your books to your backpack as you stand in front of your locker when Johnny came to you. "I didn't know we have the same classes."

You were stunned when you saw him talking to you in the open, students started looking in your way as if seeing a history. The most known guy in the University is with a nobody, but you shrugged it anyway as you closed your locker's door. You bite back at your tongue with all the attention you were getting, anxiety creeping out to you but you choose to ignore it.

"You weren't even attending your classes," you told him as you fix your backpack, the both of you started walking, keeping the same slow pace and taking your time.

"Well, I now have a reason, at least," he says as he grabs the strap of your bag and slings it in his shoulder. You ignore the bubbly feeling inside you and continued walking. Smiling at yourself as you forget about the stares around you.

"You're so cheesy, Suh Johnny." You giggled at him and for the first time, you saw a genuine smile creeping on his face.

When Lunch came, both of you sat outside to enjoy the sunny weather. "I'm going to start my Practicum next week," Johnny told you suddenly, and you stood up so fast to walk around the table to hug him.

"I'm so glad!" the sincere happiness is written on your face that even Johnny laughs with you.

"Thanks to you, I feel like, there's more to it than ending my life at the age of 21," he says and you shake your head at him.

"No, I didn't do anything. It's mostly you. I'm just here beside you to guide you, but it's your own will."

"I'll be honest with you, hurting myself still runs on my head but the difference this time is, I'm scared to do it." you didn't know what to reply to that so you just extend your hands towards his and hold it firmly in your grasp.

The rest of your day went ahead without you noticing, time flies by rather quickly when you are with Johnny. You stood waiting for your bus to arrive when a black Audi stops in front of you. Its windows rolling down and you see Johnny peeking through the window to smile at you.

"You want to wait for your bus or be logical and save time?" you laugh at his way of asking you for a ride but walk towards the passenger to join him in his car otherwise. The car ride was rather chaotic, you were debating about what to put first, milk or cereal, and you felt the horrors when Johnny says he puts milk in first. He was laughing like a child at how horrified you look.

"Anything's fine with me. I put whatever in first," he says after a long minute of arguing.

"I'm telling you, not to live like that!" you argue back. "Cereal comes first and then milk goes in, just imagine, do you pour the soap first before the water? it's water before the soap!" you explained and he laughs at how rilled up you get.

The argument was cut off when you arrived at your house. Johnny parked his car in front of your house and for some reason, your mother came in wearing an apron over her clothes. She raises an eyebrow at the unknown car blocking her driveway and you look at Johnny who looks back at you.

"Your mother is intimidating." He says.

"Want to come over for dinner?" you ask, and It took him a second before responding, " You think that's a good idea?"

"Come on, Mr. Suh, grow some balls, it's just my mom." Johnny looks offended at your statement.

"I have balls that girls flock around with," he retorted. You sigh and open the passenger seat greeting your mom with a smile as you ran to hug her.

"Can my friend stay for dinner?" you asked after hugging her. Johnny is behind you as he introduced himself as your friend and your mother shocked him by giving him a warm hug.

"There's still room for another boy in my house, I believe, it's no problem." Your mother stated as Johnny gives you a confused glance. Your mother invited him in and you welcomed him.

Inside, your older brother, Taeil is strumming his guitar with three other guys in the living room. "Oh, This is my Brother, Taeil." you casually said at him as you hung both of your jackets.

"You didn't tell me you have a brother." He whispered at you, standing awkwardly beside you. Taeil waved at him and you push him to sit beside Jaehyun.

"This is Jaehyun, Doyoung, and Ten. They're all bandmates during high school so they're always here for my brother," you explained. "And your mother's cooking." Ten added.

"Well, now you know," You said as you turn to him. "Let me just go to my room and freshen up real quick, just make yourself feel at home," you say as you back up on your track. "Cool."

Johnny didn't feel out of place for some reason, he was really happy that he got to meet your brother and his bandmates, they were cool to be around. They entertained him and ask what were his hobbies are and for the first time, he took his time to think about what he likes to do. He likes to draw.

When dinner was served, all the boys helped your mother to set up the table, Johnny was persistent in helping even after telling him to sit and wait because he was a guest. You let him help otherwise.

Dinner was well spent, he enjoyed talking with everyone and your mother even asks him to visit anytime he wants. Taeil takes a liking to him, asking him to hang out whenever he's free. Johnny presented to do the dishes and you helped him when he was done his shirt was a total mess because of the water splashing through the faucet, a good thing is that your brother has some clothes that are way oversized for him, and he lets Johnny use them.

You handed him the shirt, accidentally seeing a huge bruise on his chest and stomach, before you knew it, you stop him as he was about to put his shirt on. "What happened?"

His bruises must have slipped his mind and he mentally cursed himself at it. You were horrified. "Johnny, are you getting beat up?"

"I don't want to talk about this," he pulled his shirt down "Y/n, It's getting late. I should head home now. Thank you for dinner, I enjoyed it." and before you know it, Suh Johnny was gone.

Weeks passed by and Johnny was a complete no show. Faint rays of the sun trickled down through your curtains and fell on your room's marbled floor, you look up at your window and were blinded by the light, sitting up, you let your feet hovered on your marbled floors and mentally prepare yourself for the day.

In the office, your instructor asked you to copy some files and you gladly agreed to do it as you don't have much going on for the time being. You thought that it was hard doing your practicum, but all you did at the office was run errands evolving the x-ray machine. Your mind drifted back to Johnny, you'll have to talk to him. Being worried about him is already killing you and the last time you saw him was three weeks ago.

Wednesday came and you sat at your usual spot in the library, studying for the upcoming exams as you patiently wait for the tall black-haired guy. You forced yourself to do some actual studying but for some reason, all you can think about was Suh Johnny who didn't even show up.

The week passed by in a blur and on Thursday you went to your University to take the exam, you were scheduled for the second batch, and instead of your usual schedule of Wednesday, your professor divided your class into two batches.

You weren't even aware that your exams already finished as you were walking to your locker to put away some books.

You understood that Johnny had issues and you hated that you can't do anything to help him. You would do anything for him if that means for the comfort inside him and his peace of mind. You might not know the reason for his depression but everyone has a reason and you know that everybody around you has some issues going on in their private lives. You look around, seeing other students do their thing, minding their own business, some are even bored and waiting for their exams, You saw Jennie and Jongin together looking at you with disgusted faces that you shrugged off.

Johnny saw you as you mindlessly walk your way to the visual room, and he followed behind you silently, as he looks over his ex-girlfriend and ex-best friend. He realized he never really had a connection with Jennie before, they were both just into the sex, and then it gets awkward when they started to talk.

You were already done setting the projector up, walking in the center to lay down when you heard someone entered, and when you saw Johnny at the entrance of the room, his hands on his sweatpants pocket as he gives you a look, you stood up and ran to give him a big hug. You shed tears for him, as you give him a tight hug.

"Why are you crying?" he asked.

"Aren't we friends?" You asked him as you hold him in your arms. "Friends share their pains. So, I'll be here. I just want you to know that I'll be here when you needed someone to be there with you." Johnny fought his tears but who was he kidding? He yearns for someone's affection and not because of who he was but because it was him. And this time, he finally had someone to share his pains with. People already viewed him as someone going on a phase, probably someone rebelling against his parents but Johnny was more than that. He didn't care about it, though. He learned to give less fuck about insignificant people around him.

"My father used to beat me up, Football was just an excuse to cover up these bruises." He admitted. He was disgusted and embarrassed about it. But it was you, and he knows that you're not one to judge someone based off on their appearances.

You shed more tears for him. "Johnny, You don't deserve that, no one deserves that," you say caressing his cheeks. You hated the cheesy statement but you ignore it anyway, what you were feeling at the moment isn't important. Johnny was opening up to you.

The two of you manage to have time off from the university and Practicum. (Johnny started his practicum last, last week, that's why he was MIA most of the time, that time.) Johnny was hanging out at your house, the problem was, your mother and brother are both at work, so you take it to yourself that being alone with him, at your house, is inappropriate. You drag him outside, leading the way to one of your favorite diners.

"I am telling you, you're going to regret that," you said.

"What's wrong with what I ordered?" Johnny did this little thing in his nose, and you take a moment to look at him as you smile at him. You ignore the stares around you, feeling like a sore thumb sticking and obviously, out of place. Johnny scowl at the man who was drunk out of his wits, shamelessly checking you out. This wasn't the first time, this always happened, but not to you though. You told him to ignore it, that man was probably in here to order a cup of coffee.

"Their chicken and waffles here are the best! I'm telling you, I'm not going to share with you."

One pout of his lips towards you and you were switching your plates towards Johnny. You told him, only because this was the first time that he got to try out your favorite dish, and there won't be a second chance in the future. Johnny was kind enough to share a piece of waffle with you. But not the chicken, though. He fell head over heels for it.

Bit by bit, Johnny's walls crumbled down around you, and before you knew it, both of you are inseparable. Johnny dating you spread like wildfire around campus, but there wasn't any truth behind that gossip, you were just a friend. Simple as that.

He was hanging more lately with your brother than you expected. Both of them have the same interest, so it wasn't a surprise when Johnny befriended most of your brother's friends.

Johnny was going on about how Jaehyun's a chill guy, Mark, and Donghyuck introducing him to play games, even Yuta, the University's drug dealer, as they brand him, was included in Taeil's group of friends.

"You didn't tell me that you knew Nakamoto Yuta," Johnny whispered behind you.

"Yeah, For some reason, I didn't want to get involved with most of them. Some girls are crazy about them and I just want peacefulness as I end my college years." You answered. Yuta was from the same department, Jaehyun was from the same university but was taking a different course, as well as Doyounga and Taeyong. Mark and Haechan still need a year before attending college. Ten was studying arts and your brother was a college dropout.

You were having pizza night at your house, your mother was kind enough to accommodate a bunch of men in her tiny house, seemingly impossible to fit 13 men inside, but it did. Instead of the usual party that frat houses and rich kids throw around, Taeil and the others like to keep it to themselves. Sharing one shot glass and downing a cheap rum as everybody waits for their turn. Most of them didn't think that Johnny would be fine with this kind of setup. Besides, he was branded as the campus king and a rich heir at that. He could spend Friday nights at some high-end bar and drink expensive alcohol. But no, instead, here he was, sitting on the cheap carpet your mother owns with a bunch of drunk men but you were glad that your brother is such a nice guy and so are his peers.

Johnny was glad, that he found true people, who accepts him for who he is and not because of who he was.

Doyoung placed you on the empty sofa, you have a low tolerance for alcohol, and you can't keep up with them anymore. The cheapest drink Taeyong bought isn't of cheap quality, you knew better than to judge a bottle chosen by him. You watch them with heavy eyelids, smiling at yourself, Mark and Donghyuck made fun of you by putting thick blankets around you and this was the first time Johnny saw you annoyed by the younger boys.

When Morning came, you were already on your bed as your head pounds. When you came downstairs to leave for school you look around and saw that last night's trace was gone as if 13 grown men didn't make a mess out of your mother's living room.

You wished you had gotten a coffee first when you entered your room way too early and saw that most of the students are yet to arrive, even water would be good, anything liquid down your throat would be good.

You saw Jaehyun and Johnny bidding farewells at the front of the room, students who were present to see the two interacting were shocked, for them, It was rare to see Johnny without his usual crew. But, who are they to decide that for Johnny? It was a rare sight to see, A popular music major and the famous ex-football captain, together?

When Johnny approached his spot beside you, he gives you the cold Iced latte he was holding fresh from Starbucks, completely ignoring unwanted stares behind his back.

"Good Morning," there was a warm aura surrounding him as he settled down beside you, and you look at him in awe. "What?" he asks.

You watched him for a moment, smiling at him as he looks at you questionably. "You're happy," you stated making Johnny pause for a second to think, he was sporting a baby pink hoodie and grey Nike pants, holding his Earpods and Macbook at the other hand. "I think I might be getting there."

Your heart swells up for him and as you fought back the tears that wanted to fall. Johnny reached out to you, wiping the strands of hair that keep falling on your face. "Sorry," you said. People might think that yesterday, Johnny was trying to end his life, and then suddenly, he was okay, because he never was, and you continuously walk on a thin thread around him, Johnny is like a ticking bomb and porcelain that needs to be handled with the utmost care. Five months ago, Johnny doesn't have the motivation to continue living his life, but here he was thriving to know what tomorrow can offer him.

For Johnny, meeting you was his saving grace, problems might fill up in his life, there is this constant reminder that society will always judge him the minute he does something wrong, there is his father, his stepmother who doesn't really pay attention to him, his old life and old self constantly reminding him the pain of the past.

"What happened to your eyes?" there were dark circles under his eyes and for a moment you thought that he has a lot in his mind to think about for the lack of sleep.

"I stayed up till dawn playing overwatch with Donghyuck and Mark last night." He says smiling.

"I'm glad your settling with the boys all right." Johnny watched you, how your long hair flow past your shoulders through your back, he loves the little freckles dancing all over your cheeks naturally and how a touch of pink creeps in your cheeks naturally because of the humid air.

You were really glad. "Do you want to go with me and Ten?" He asks you when your classes ended for the morning, both of you walked to the library to hide from prying and malicious eyes. "He wants to hang out in the nearest coffee shop." he continued and you agreed to go with him, making a turn for the exit.

Johnny ordered an Americano for him and a latte for you, eating the packed lunch your mother made for you and Johnny as you wait for Ten.

Ten arrived with Jaehyun in tow, placing their bags down Jaehyun took the seat beside you while Ten walked to the counter to order their drinks. Johnny looked at you and Jaehyun but ignore the malice running in his head.

"Kim Yerim!" the three of you looked at the entrance to see Johnny's sister entering the cafe, Yerim waved at someone across their table and saw his sister's friend Park Sooyoung waving frantically. Johnny turned to look at you and Jaehyun ignoring his sister who started walking inside, "What happened to you?" he asks Jaehyun,

"Why?"

"You're turning really red." Johnny pointed out and you snickered at Jaehyun who turns to look at Johnny's sister absentmindedly. "Man, That's my sister!" Johnny whispered-shout at him as he fought the urge to laugh at Jaehyun. Someone definitely has a crush on his little sister.

You and Johnny eyed each other, laughing as you both understood telepathically. "What's so funny?" Ten asks when he arrived and the both of you laughed loudly this time.

"Hyung!" Jaehyun shouted at him his ears turning red.

When Johnny got home, he locked himself up in his room that his step-mother finally asked to clean. He was busy waiting for Donghyuck and Mark to play when he heard a knock on his door.

"Can I come in?" His step-mother asked. Yerim's mother is a great person, but that doesn't really mean that she's a good mother to both him and Yerim, he can't really judge her though, she's still young and living her dreams but then his father got her pregnant with Yerim and then here she is stuck at this hell of a household, all three of them under the strings of his father.

"Yes." He says.

Kim Ah-Jong walked inside, placing a warm cup of milk beside him for the first time, "Johnny," She started as he settled at the edge of Johnny's bed facing him. Johnny turns his chair to face her too, holding the warm mug in his hand to seek comfort in this awkward setting.

"I don't know how to start, but I just wanted to say that I'm really sorry," she paused for a second, ignoring the lump in her throat, "I hope you forgive me for replacing your mother's position, and that I'm really grateful because you love your sister more than anything even though you didn't have the same mother."

"It's the least that I could do." He says.

"Yes, I know, and I'm sorry if I failed you as a mother, I was busy finding myself to the point you and Yerim grow up without the right amount of affection from us. We're such horrible parents and I wanted to say sorry on behalf of your father. You don't deserve this, no one else did."

That night, Johnny slept soundly in his own home for the first time in a while.

Yerim was shocked to see her mom attending to his brother, it's as if she suddenly had a change of heart and finally started to be a mother to his brother. Her father was another problem, he still hasn't moved on from his son's attempt. Spitting atrocious words early in the morning making Johnny regret even joining the breakfast.

Kim Ah-jong had enough of his husband's wrath, it was still morning and his husband is starting to get on her nerves. She stabs her bread knife on their table as she turns her head towards him, "Is still early in the morning for the love of God, Kim Ji Hoon. Must you really ruin our morning?" she says.

Both Yerim and Johnny were stunned at her, their father shutting up in instant at the fear her wife would stab her.

Johnny and Yerim drive to the University that day together, "Oh, do you mind if we stop by at my friend's house? I promise to pick him up." Johnny asks and Yerim nodded.

Johnny smirked, he was excited to see Jaehyun's reaction.

Johnny pulled up in front of Jaehyun's apartment, sending him a message the was up in front of his building, after a minute, Jaehyun emerges from the entrance of the building running to get to his car with a tumbler in his other hand.

Johnny pulled the window down and Jaehyun saw Yerim first, he stopped midway, flustered that a girl was with his young, and It was no other than his sister. he played it cool and sat at the back.

"Oh, Yerim-ah, this is Jaehyun. He's my friend."

Jaehyun didn't expect her to turn around and bow her head down. "Thank you so much for taking good care of my brother."

Johnny became flustered with Yerim but laughed it off instead. Jaehyun bowed his head towards her saying it was nothing. Yerim was unaware of the looks she was getting from the older boy sitting at the back seat of his brother's car as Johnny keeps throwing playful glances at the back while he drove them to the school.

Graduation was already nearing, both you and Johnny were already finished with your practicum, Johnny was moving boxes towards his car, for some reason, his father allowed him to have his own flat, his step-mother saying that it would be the best for him and his mental health to have some space between them and that they should give him some time and space. His father was adamant at first but has nothing to do in the end.

"Just let him do what he wants, He's already graduating, with honors! He already did everything you wanted it's the least you could do for him." he heard his step-mother argue a while ago with his father. Johnny still had to go home every Sunday at the main house, though.

You and Taeil volunteered to help him with his moving and he was glad, to say the least. Yerim contacted you to do his groceries for him and the two of you left the older boys as you went to the market with Yerim.

Yerim was a cool young woman, she was matured for her own age, you learned that she was very frank at what she wants and that she loves her brother so much.

"I'm really glad my brother meet you," she says as she links her right arms with you, you were both walking to the parking lot, and you smiled at her blushing.

"Honestly, I never really liked his old friends. Jongin? Nope. Chanyeol? He's an asshole. Everyone in that damn team is an ass except for Sehun," she says as both of you entered the market, pulling a big cart in the process, and continued walking ahead. "You and your brother are surrounded by good people. Do you know that? And I'm kind of jealous of you, not that I don't have good friends, I do."

"Well, consider me someone you can be with so those good people will surround you too," you said smiling, Yerim giggled at you.

It took Johnny a week before really settling down in his apartment, he invited the guys over to have a small welcoming party, drinking and playing till the sun rises.

Johnny was busy typing at his laptop as you were both doing your last requirement for college, papers, and documents were all scattered around his living room when he turns his head to look at you. "Are you comfortable with those jeans?" He asks.

You look at your pants, it is uncomfortable.

"I don't have extra clothes," Johnny poked at his cheeks with his tongue, he stood up and went inside his room, when he came back he was holding clean boxer shorts. "You can use this if you want," he says as he extends his arms to you. You gladly took it and went to his bathroom to change.

Johnny thinks this was more dangerous than when he had blood oozing out of his wrist, you had your toned legs on display for him, and only him. It wasn't helping at all. Without knowing, he stared at your legs for a good minute, the urge of having his hands run along the lines of your thighs was becoming unbearable. He was amazed by the lack of hair you had around your arms and legs, was it liked that too with the parts your clothes have covered? He can't help the wild imaginations running around his head with the things he wants to do to you.

Johnny focused his attention back on the screen of his laptop. What the fuck is he even thinking? It's you, his fucking angel. How dare he have dirty thoughts about you. He mentally slaps himself and went back to typing.

You noticed Johnny having a mental crisis because of you and you silently laugh at him, extending your legs further to have your skin touch his thighs.

after hours of being productive with your work, You and Johnny decided to call it a night.

After a week of preparations for the upcoming finals, you and Johnny decided to meet up, the waiter placed both of your orders in front of you and Johnny, who give the waiter a small smile while uttering a quick "Thank you." You eyed Jhonny's food who looks somewhat more delicious than your Pesto Pasta. You don't even know why you ordered it, you never even tasted it before, you just want to— maybe, impress the guy in front of your table who were giving you obvious looks about the taste pallet you had which is definitely of a 13 Years old.

Johnny gives you a look while shaking his head, knowing all too well that you wanted a bite of it. Looking at you who's eyeing his barbeque bacon burger with fries on the side— It's usually what the two of you order and he was shocked that you ordered something out of the ordinary. He knew that you weren't the type of girl to go out of your comfort zone. You like what you usually eat, what you usually drink, and what type of clothing you usually wear. You are a very simple, young woman. You don't usually try things out of the blue, especially, when the two of you are both hungry.

Instantly, Johnny switched both plates. Giving you his food whilst saying a silent goodbye to the famous BBQ burger that he craves so much after winning a football game, which, he deserves. "What are you doing?" you asked shocked. You already saw him digging in and wincing at the taste. "Why the fuck would you even order this thing?" he asked.

You looked at the guy at the other table. You both were giving silent glances, he's good-looking and obviously from another school but you don't do other schools, that is the thing, you'd rather date someone from the same school, same department or same village. You don't like the hassle. People can go ahead and say your such a basic bitch, which in fact, you are. You finally give your full attention to Johnny who looks at his back to find some guy obviously ogling your face. That was the scariest thing in the world for him, guys ogling your face rather than your body, honestly, it was obvious from guys falling for your body— they just want to get in your pants, but guys who fall for your beauty is different.

You start digging in with your food. "This is the reason why I love you so much." You stated giving your burger a bite.

"Why would you even want to eat this." He says. You give him a chuckle as you extend your right arm towards him, offering him a bite of your burger, which he gladly took. "I'm sorry, I'm such a pain in the ass." You said.

"I kidnapped you in your after party and I'm so sorry, I didn't know Jennie's going to be there, and now you're eating something you don't even like. Man, you don't deserve this." You continued. Sincerely saying sorry towards him— picking a fry and dipping it on the ketchup provided at the side of your plate.

For some reason, Things work out for him and the team, It was going to be his last year playing, and the higher-ups decided for him to lead the team again, making Jongin lose face around the campus. It wasn't like before, It was expected, Johnny was just professional around them, leading them at the court and out of sight, after.

"What? No way. This is what I deserve. A peaceful dinner and finally having time with you." He says after biting at the toasted bread the pasta has. It was true though, Johnny was talking with Jennie again, well, but not exactly dating her, as students would say around campus. They dated, but that was that, he can't even imagine being good friends with someone who cheated on him, he was just being civil with her, ending things with a good note and leaving the better past behind him, and you haven't really had the chance to hang out together since their coach intensified their training hours and days, and right after that Johnny would hang out with your brother and the other guys.

"What did my brother say, though? with you being with me tonight? You guys are basically dating each other by now," you joked.

"Yeah, he's cool with it. Don't worry, I told him about our meeting before you actually kidnapped me." He gives you a smirk and you give him a confused look. "I was actually going to ask you for a dinner with me after the game." You rolled your eyes at him.

"Wow." You commented. You were practically like a twin at this rate. "Can I ask you something, though?" Johnny didn't know whether to ask because he was curious or just wait for you to open up to him, for some reason, Johnny felt naked around you. You knew everything about him, you have him wrapped around your pretty little fingers "What if I don't want to?" You countered and he scoffed.

"What was the reason you transferred? you only had a year to finish before graduating," Your face fell and he instantly saw how your face contorted into a frown. "Why are you making that face?" he asked.

"I had a bad break up to the point that I was destroying myself." You finally said like it was nothing. Johnny stopped everything that he's doing, giving you a look as if asking why. He felt like an idiot. How can he? at your worst time? "I'm such a horrible friend." He says.

"It's not your fault, and I'm even sorry that I didn't tell you sooner." You said quietly. Suddenly your favorite dish from the dinner doesn't look appealing anymore. "And I wanted time for myself, you know, he cheated on me."

the clicking of utensils can be heard throughout the diner when he dropped them to the table. He was fuming mad.

"It wasn't anyone's fault, though. if anything. It was mine. I lost interest in our relationship, didn't have time for him, and just lost everything along the way." You said while moving your plate towards him which he gladly took, abandoning the pasta you ordered and eating the half of the burger you had. But the real reason was, you can't stop comparing your ex-boyfriend to him.

"Still isn't a reason to cheat on you." He says after taking a bite. You move your lemonade in front of you and lazily sip on it. He drops the topic knowing all too well that you don't want to talk about it. Still, he felt guilty for some reason, What could go wrong?

Right, Johnny Suh is starting to have feelings for you, and definitely not in a platonic way.

And you don't have any idea about it.

He opened your bag that was beside him and fetch the wet wipes that were inside. He opened it and out of habit cleaned your fingers with it. And you let him, smiling. "I wished I meet you sooner," He looked at you and smiled. "I'm really sorry I haven't been with you for the last 21 years." you joked as you let him dry your fingers with a dry napkin that the diner provides.

You were about to head out— fetching the car keys that you placed on the bowl beside the main door when you hear a familiar honk outside your house. Your hands slip past your keys and you walk the small distance to your door, opening it the cold air of December heats your face and Johnny greeted you with his usual beam on his face, his left hand stretched up outside his window, giving you a wave.

You smiled to yourself, biding your mom a quick goodbye and you were off to school with your best friend.

"Good Morning." He greeted you when you opened the door of his black Audi.

"Good Morning, indeed." You said facing him after securing yourself with the seat belt. There was a tint of pink in Johnny's checks that you choose to ignore.

Pulling up at the parking lot in front of the university's main building where a lot of students lingered chatting with their circle of friends— Johnny smoothly maneuvered and parked at his usual spot.

You both get out of his car and started to walk to the building.

"See you at lunch?" he asked when you neared your classroom— you were slightly shocked. "Won't you be eating with Yerim today?" you asked as you stopped in your tracks facing him. "Doesn't have to." He simply replied and you nod your head. "She'll be mad, John." You said as a matter of fact— facing him while slowly backing away as he marly give you a shrug. "She doesn't have the right, though." you rolled your eyes at him "Just ask her to eat with us!"

Graduation was nearing and you've been offered a job at one of the top companies in the city, you didn't have the reason to turn them down so you accept and were set to sign the contract right after having your diploma.

This calls for a celebration, though.

When Johnny heard that he was the first one to know about something significant in his life, he was delighted.

You found yourself getting tipsy with the cheap booze in front of you and Johnny. You were laughing at something he said about his sister, holding the cheap beer in your hand as you chug the contents down your through. "Okay, That's enough," Johnny said whilst grabbing the cans of beer and putting them back at his refrigerator. You pout back at him but don't argue, you still have to attend your classes tomorrow morning and you don't want to miss anything for the last weeks you have for being a college student.

Johnny tucked you in his bed and you bid the sweetest goodnight on him, he leaves a sweet kiss on your forehead before heading for the couch in the living room to sleep on, since he had no energy to actually drive you home.

You woke up that night, feeling rather hot, unconsciously stripping out of your pants and bra out of habit, you walked to the kitchen for some water.

Walking with blurred vision, you find your way into the kitchen. The lights were dim as you passed by the living room completely ignoring the fact that Johnny could definitely walk on you wearing only your white tee and undies.

You helped yourself around the kitchen, rummaging in the refrigerator for a jar of water, your hands felt the cold lid of the jar, popping it open and chugging the contents down. You giggled after realizing that you should probably use glass and act like a lady for once since you're not in your own place.

You hissed as you struggle, reaching for a glass in the cupboard. "Just why is it placed so fucking high?" you asked yourself. A hand reached for the glass and you turned around, shocked and ready to pounce the person behind you.

you came face to face with Johnny. His face, only inches away from you. His hands find their way to your waist as he looked at you and the glass in his hands, he purred his self some water in the glass and chugged the whole content down.

"I got thirsty," he said. You moved beside so you don't disturb him, stepping at least five steps away.

He looked you up and down, the smell of booze around, is strong, it almost made you gag. Feeling the cold air between your legs, you looked at yourself. "Fuck." realizing that you were only wearing your white t-shirt; that you probably owned since 7th grade— Your breast was obvious that even your nipples were prominent, your shirt just hanging before your hip bone and then your undies.

You mentally slap yourself. He put the glass down and you put your hair in front to at least cover your hardening nipples away from him. Chills run down your spine as he took another step forward, clearing the distance between you.

"Hey-" he cut you off.

"Johnny," he says.

"What?" you asked, barely whispering. Your eyes moved down on their own, from his eyes down to his upper body, he was shirtless, giving you free access to his perfectly sculpted body, his pelvis, so sharp even a God couldn't compare. Again, you felt the burning sensation coming back in your throat. You touched your neck instantly as you tried to swallow.

"My name, say it," he whispered, you looked up only to be met by his eyes, dark with unknown lust as if burning you within. He keeps staring at you, keeping you captive with his eyes that you somehow felt naked.

"Johnny," you whispered trying not to sound like your practically moaning his name. He took a step forward, leaving no space between you and him. "Again." He commands you. You sucked a deep breath as you avoid eye contact.

"Johnny."

He used his index finger to lift your head as his thumb drew circles just below your chin to the base of your neck. blood rushed to your face as you suddenly felt hot on your cheeks as he put his hands on your waist again. He tilts his head, the smell of alcohol mixed with his aftershave and mint filled your senses, suddenly it wasn't too dark anymore.

He brushes his lower lip against yours that you barely felt it. He licked his lower lip as you bite yours. He stares intently at you. "You know, I would appreciate it if you don't walk around the house in these." his hands hot on your skin.

all rationality seems to fly out of the window, both of you staring at each other gazes, Johnny pulling you in for a much deeper kiss. "Didn't know you were this naughty with alcohol in your system," he murmured, Johnny's soft languid kisses were driving you wild, he moves at the base of your neck and sucked at the soft skin before pressing light kisses.

"Do you have any idea how much I want you?" he says softly, your breath hitches without knowing and you deliciously clenched around nothing upon hearing his statement, you were hypnotized by his eyes. Leaning down, he kisses you again.

You put your hands around his chest to push him slightly, gazing up toward him, "I want this," you whispered. "No. Not in the morning when you're sober enough to regret this," Johnny says, you ignore him and pulled him down to kiss him again, and Johnny lost all his logic with how delicious you tasted, you guide his hands on the hem of your shirt and slowly he peels it off for you and lets it fall down the floor.

Johnny put his arms around you and hauls you against his body, squeezing you tightly, his hands traveled down your waist and down to your behind, he holds you against his hips, and you feel his erection, which he gladly pushes into you, easily lifting you from the floor after, you moan once more in his mouth, He eases you towards the bed and you feel your back against the soft cushion once more.

Tentatively, you move your hands up to his face and his hair, tugging at it lightly as if implying for him to take you fully. But Johnny has other plans in his mind. He grabs your hips with both his hands and runs his tongue around your navel, gently nipping his way to your hipbone and across your belly to the other. "Ah," You groan.

Seeing him on top of you, between your legs as you feel his hot breath against your skin, Is unexpected, but you wanted this as much as he wants it. Your hand on his hair, pulling gently as you try to quiet your loud breathing. He gazes up at you through impossibly long-lashed, and chocolate-colored eyes. His hand reaches the hem of your black underwear, leisurely pulling it down without taking his eyes off you, he stops and licks his lips, never breaking eye contact. Johnny leans forward, running his nose up the apex between your thighs, and you feel him.

"You smell so fucking good," he murmurs and closes his eyes. a look of pure pleasure on his face and you practically convulse.

You raise yourself on your elbows to see what he's doing, you were panting, you wanted him right there. shit

Moaning, you felt him run his tongue on the sleek of your heat, "Keep still," he murmurs and then leans down again to kiss down your clit. "How can I not move? you're making me feel this good." you felt him smirk against your skin. "Then, we'll have to work on keeping you still." there was a dangerous tone laced in his voice and you find it impossibly hot and twisted. You're flushed, skin burning, too hot, too cold, and you're craving more as you clawed at the sheets beneath you.

Johnny moves forward and you protested but the pleasure came back once more when he blows very gently on one of yours mound, his hands moving to the other breast, and his thumb slowly rolls the end of your nipple, elongating it. You moan, feeling the sweet sensation all the way to your groin.

"Johnny," you were wet, "Please," you beg silently as your fingers clasp the sheet tighter. His lips close around your nipple and he tugs, making you convulse. He doesn't stop.

Johnny moves his fingers around your clit, drawing circles as he laps on your mound, you let yourself go from his touch. His thumb and finger continue doing you deliciously and you fall apart on his hands.

"Oh," you won't lie, that felt extraordinary, and now, you know the fuss around him is about. He gazes down at you, a satisfied smirk on his face and you're still in owe from your high.

Johnny was amazed at how responsive you are, he laced his fingers around you, drawing slow and lazy circles around your clit again, bringing another set of heat in your core. He closes his eyes briefly, his breathing hitches. You're deliciously wet and Johnny doesn't want to fuck you with a condom on, and neither did you.

He reaches over the bedside table, anyway, grabbing a foil packet, and then moving out of the bed to discard the rest of his clothes. You saw him, and your mouth watered at how long and thick he is. He kneels on the bed and pulls the condom onto his length. "I really don't want to use one."

"Is that going to fit in?"

"Don't worry," He breathes, "You're wet enough, Angel. I know you can make me well," He murmurs as he positions the head of his erection at the entrance of your sex and pushing hard.

"Aargh!" You cry as you felt him sliding in, there was a weird sensation pinching deep inside you as he rips through you without warning. Johnny stills, his eyes bright with ecstatic triumph. His mouth opened slightly, his breathing harsh. He groans wanting to move.

"Fuck, baby, so tight."

"Johnny, Wait."

He stills for a moment, "Why?" You held onto his forearms, fucking him with a condom doesn't feel right, you wanted every little part of him, you wanted to feel him. Raw. "I- Can we remove the condom?" Johnny asks as if reading your mind.

You nod at him, You felt him slide out of you, removing the condom and throwing it at the trash bin beside his bed. Johnny positions his self once more, easing on to you, groaning. He loved every bit of it, this was the first time that you had sex without using protection, and the same thing goes for Johnny. Moving your hips up to him, as a sign that you wanted him to move already. He groans. You felt so full, as he let you acclimatize at the overwhelming feeling of him inside you. Naked, and Raw.

He eases back with exquisite slowness. Closing his eyes, Johnny controlled himself not on to fuck you hard, He thrust into you again, and you cry out in pleasure. He shifts into his elbow, and you feel his weight on you, holding you down. He moves painfully slow at first, easing himself in and out of you. You grew impatient and you can't help but move your hips up tentatively to meet his. He speeds up. Pounding on you, picking up speed by the second, merciless and in a relentless rhythm.

you can't help yourself to meet his thrust, making Johnny lose his mind because of you. Your body quivers. a sheen of sweat gathers over you. Your thoughts are scattered. There's only the feeling of him, of you, and him, and you stiffen.

"Come for me, baby," he whispers breathlessly, and you unravel at his words, exploding around him as you climax and shard into pieces with every being you had underneath him. And as he comes inside you, calling your name, thrusting hard, the stalling as he empties himself into you.

Johnny's breathing was ragged as you try to slow your breathing, your heart thumping hard and your thoughts in a disarray, you opened your eyes. His eyes flickered open and gaze down at you, dark but soft. He's still inside you, leaning down, he gently presses a kiss against your forehead then slowly pulls out of you.

Johnny cleaned you up and spoon you to sleep, he hoped that in the morning you won't regret what happened. Because he loved every moment of it.

Part 2? I didn't put the taglist because this is already reposted. so, yeah, hope u guys enjoyed! let me know what you think, I feel like i sucked making this.

#johnny suh #johnnysmut #johnnyangst #johnnyfluff #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun smut #nct smut #nct scenarios #nct127 #NCTU #nct johnny #marklee #HaeChan #Taeil #Yuta #wayv ten #wayv #johnny x reader

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arvandus · 3 years

Text

Touch (pt 9) - Amity

PAIRING: Dabi x Fem!Reader

STORY WARNINGS: 18+ only please! Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

CHAPTER WARNINGS: talk of killing, blood, needle/medical sewing; pining... lots of resistant pining. Typical sensory overload due to quirk use.

CHAPTER SONG: Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish

Part 1 Part 8

Artwork credit to @hellowon31 on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 9: Amity

Between your second night in a row of poor sleep and waking up incredibly early, it didn’t take long for exhaustion to find you again. By mid-day your sensory overload had subsided enough that you collapsed into your bed, dreamless sleep dragging you under instantly. It was short-lived, however; it felt like no sooner had your head hit the pillow, that a knock on your door roused you groggily from your slumber.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you stood up and answered the door to see Toga standing in front of you, a bloodied washcloth held to her temple.

“Oh my god, what happened to you??” you exclaimed, as you let her into your room.

“I was out running some errands and a thug tried to jump me in an alleyway.” Toga replied cheerfully. She halted in her tracks. “Oh… aren’t you still sick with the flu?” She instantly covered her mouth and nose with her free hand, taking a step back.

“Huh? Oh!” you exclaimed. Right. Crap. You forgot about that little white lie. “Sorry, hang on a sec.” You quickly went to your medical bag and pulled out a white disposable mask, placing it over your face. “Is that better?” You asked, your voice muffled.

The tension in Toga’s shoulders instantly left, her posture easing as her hand dropped away from her face. “Yeah, thanks. Are you feeling okay? I could try to do this myself this time…”

You balked at the thought of Toga treating her own injuries.

“I’m fine right now, I promise.” You replied.

The blonde shrugged and fully entered your space, although her folded hands in front of her body communicated she didn’t want to touch anything.

“So, a guy jumped you in an alley?” You asked.

“Yeah. He was big, too. And had a quirk that gave him extra reach on his arms.” Toga explained.

You weren’t quite sure what sort of errands required Toga to be in alleyways, but you had a feeling none of them were good. The curiosity pulled at you - you could feel the question on your lips, but you swallowed it down. When you had first joined the League, you and Shigaraki had discussed the importance of compartmentalizing your role from the others. You were the only one out of the group who was defenseless after all, so as the weakest link within the League, you had both decided it would be best if you knew as little of the League’s affairs as possible, in case you ever got captured and questioned. You were allowed to participate in general discussions regarding the League’s next moves and what areas were important to you that you wanted to focus on, but the nitty gritty details were kept separate: private meetings with other villains, locations, times, that sort of thing. So, despite your curiosity, you knew not to pry.

Instead, you asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she replied, “but I can’t get this to stop bleeding.”

“Let’s take a look.” You gingerly removed the cloth from the wound to see a deep gash in the skin before new blood filled up. You placed the washcloth back over the wound before it could spill over. “Hm. Better keep that on there. You’re going to need stitches.”

“I figured.” She grinned. She took over holding the cloth to her head while you grabbed your medical bag. You escorted her into your bathroom and had her sit on the toilet seat. Her outfit was speckled with blood, some of it from her wound, and, you suspected, some of it not.

“So…” you started, as you washed your hands in the sink. “What happened to the thug?”

“I drained him.” She replied cheerfully. The casualness of her statement filled you with a confusing mixture of fear and pity.

“You killed him?” you asked, as you prepped your needle and thread.

Toga looked at you with her yellow feline-like eyes. “He would have killed me if I didn’t.”

“Tilt your head back.” You instructed. Toga did as you said, and you carefully removed the cloth before placing your fingers over her open wound. She winced slightly at the contact, but quickly relaxed as your quirk soaked in.

Silence filled the room as you cleaned her wound with antiseptic and set to work. The heavy quiet dragged on as your mind mulled over the girl next to you. You had a thousand questions in your mind, but none of them seemed very appropriate to ask, not without upsetting her. And despite your good standing with the League, you made it a careful point not to get on anyone’s bad side. It wasn’t so much that you didn’t trust them, although a part of you was always wary around those who were willing to commit violence. But you also understood on a personal level that the problems these villains had went far deeper than society was willing to acknowledge. Mental illness, quirkology, environment… all of it played a role in dealing the hand that these outcast individuals had been dealt.

Minutes passed as you stitched up the cut and cleaned the blood from the sealed wound once more. You were washing your hands when Toga finally spoke, her voice soft. “Are you mad at me?”

You paused to look down at her. Her brow was furrowed, her mouth pulled into a sulky frown as she stared at her hands. She looked like a child waiting to be scolded, and in that moment, you could see how young she still was. You gave a soft sigh. “Of course not. He attacked you, right? You had to defend yourself.”

You paused then followed up with, “I’m sorry you had to do it.”

“Don’t be…” she replied. “I liked killing him.”

Your hands faltered as you began putting away your supplies and Toga noticed.

“You don’t like it, do you?” she asked, accusation lacing her voice. She was defensive, waiting for your judgement.

You couldn’t blame her. No doubt her quirk was something she likely struggled with all of her life before finally giving in to it. She had never given you her story directly, but it wasn’t hard to guess. Everything about her – from her ramblings to her actions - spoke of a caged animal who finally got a taste of freedom and refused to be captured.

Contradicting feelings warred within you, and you struggled to wrangle them. You had to admit, you hated the idea of her killing. More importantly, you knew that her victims weren’t always street thugs, villains, or corrupted heroes. But at the same time, despite this uncomfortable fact, you also understood how strongly quirks affected behavior, how it could act like a poison, messing with the mind and forcing its way into being expressed. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen it; you understood it intimately.

You looked down at her and a familiar sense of pity unfurled in your gut, snaking into your veins, pulling at your emotions even as your core roiled at the idea of needless violence. She was just like him... a victim in her own way, despite the horrific things she did.

“You think I’m a monster.” Her words cut through your thoughts, and your attention refocused on her. She had her knees hugged up to her chest, her feet propped on the closed toilet lid that she occupied. You mentally scolded yourself for abandoning her as you got lost in your head and crouched down next to her.

“No. I don’t think you’re a monster.” You answered soothingly.

“Then why do you look scared of me?” Toga demanded.

You gave her a smile that you hoped reached your eyes. She was more perceptive than you gave her credit for sometimes. You had to choose your words carefully.

“I’m not scared of you.” You explained. “ But I am a healer, Toga. I see someone who’s hurt, and I want to take that pain away. It’s what my quirk is. It’s a part of who I am and it’s what motivates me. So, I won’t deny that it’s hard for me sometimes to understand why you do what you do because it’s so opposite of how I am.”

Toga averted her eyes, her body tightening in on itself.

“But…” you continued as you placed a hand on her forearm, “I’m not scared of you. And even though you do monstrous things, I don’t think you’re a monster.”

Toga slowly lowered her knees, letting her feet touch the floor as she stared at you. “Why not?” she asked.

“Because,” you replied, “You still care about people. You and Twice were the first to welcome and befriend me when I joined the League. And the way you take care of Twice… like he’s your big brother… that counts for something. You even care about Dabi, even though he’s an ass. That was why you checked on him that night, right? You treat each of us like family. Now why would a monster do that?”

“But I still want to cut you guys all the time…” she confessed.

“I know. But you don’t. That should count for something.”

Toga smiled at you with teary eyes. “You’re so nice, big sis.” Her compliment made you smile.

Toga hopped of the toilet with a nimble bounce, signaling the end of the conversation. “Am I all done?”

You nodded. “You’re free to go.” You announced. Toga made her way to your bedroom door, but she halted when you called her name. “Toga… don’t forget to change your clothes.”

Toga looked down at the bloodstains splattered across her school uniform. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Thanks, big sis!”

She left your room with a jovial wave. As soon as the door closed behind her, you slumped down onto your bed as you removed the white mask from your face and placed it on your nightstand. Exhaustion washed over you again, deeper this time than it was before. It wasn’t even so much due to your quirk since you didn’t have to use very much of it this time. Instead, your mind focused on Toga, replaying the conversation. It filled you with a swath of competing emotions; pity, anger, frustration, helplessness, fear. The feelings swirled in you making a rank stew in your soul, old and familiar.

This was just like before.

You shoved the feelings aside, unwilling to look too closely at them. You already had enough on your plate as it was… you didn’t want to dredge up more of the past. It would only add more stress and it wouldn’t change anything.

You laid down again in the hopes that this time, finally, your sleep would be nightmare free and uninterrupted.

* * * * *

The withdrawal-induced restlessness Dabi felt lasted throughout the day, making sleep near impossible. To keep himself from going crazy, he forced his energy into cleaning up his space, despite his typical disdain for chores. He straightened up his desk, took out the trash, and most importantly, did his laundry. It was overflowing and stank of mildew, and he was in desperate need of clean towels. His bed was no better, reeking of sweat and infection and covered in chip crumbs. But while his body appreciated the movement, the lack of mental power the activities required did little to distract from intrusive, obsessive thoughts.

He wasn’t sure which thoughts he wanted to avoid more - thoughts of his family or thoughts of you. The memories of family were old and familiar, but the emotions in them were raw, threatening to suck him in and shred him to pieces like it’d already done so many times before. But thoughts of you weren’t much better, at least not to Dabi. He didn’t like the warmth he felt each time he thought of you, and yet he kept going back to that feeling, like opening the fridge to stare at that last piece of cake. He was at war with himself, and he didn’t know how to fight it.

Somehow, with all of his coming and going from his room, he somehow managed to never run into you. He wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good thing or not, but like all other uncomfortable thoughts, his forced himself not to focus on it. It shouldn’t be important. You shouldn’t be important. His mouth pressed into a thin line. The number of times he had to tell himself that were becoming too many to count, and it never did seem to make much difference.

The cleaning only occupied him for so long. Towards the end of it he found himself sitting in his room, waiting for his clothes to finish drying so he could retrieve them. He had laid back on his bed just for a moment, to stare at his phone. He woke up an hour and a half later, his mind muddled with jumbled dreams and memories. Cigarette smoke, a child’s laughter, the sound of himself screaming in agony…

He shook his head to knock the unwanted fog from his brain and grabbed a smoke to soothe the shaking in his hands. The cigarette was gone within a minute. The haze still lingered though as every inch of Dabi’s nerves hummed and his gut clenched in discomfort. So, he inhaled a second cigarette for good measure and followed it up with an electrolyte drink paired with a couple of antacids. His laundry was likely done now; no point in letting it sit there and risk another League member touching his things.

With the laundry dry and sitting on his bed in a crumpled heap, he stared at the contents, a frown on his face. Your towels were mingled with his, and the sight of it filled him with an uneasiness that had little to do with his withdrawal. It looked entirely alien to him, intrusive in his personal space. His stomach gave a weird flutter before giving way to a wave of nausea.

Stupid, he thought to himself. They’re just fucking towels.

He began folding the first towel. It was half-assed in its effort and one hundred percent intentional, as if giving careful care to your items would give away something about himself he wanted to keep secret. But even as he did so, intrusive curiosity crept into his mind. How did you fold your towels?

Idiot. He caught his wandering mind and reeled it back in forcefully, but it did little good. His mind was a master escape artist, running away to explore other unwanted thoughts without his permission as soon as his mental back was turned.

As he folded your items, his hands slowed slightly in their actions, taking in the feel of cotton on his fingers. He watched as he rolled the soft material between his thumb and forefinger while memories bubbled forth, broken and vague. Waking up in the shower, sitting on the toilet with your towel over his head, feeling of your hands working the cotton over his wet hair. He tried not to think of your face, but of course not wanting it made it appear in his mind. He remembered your eyes, the concern in them, and the memory filled him with a warmth that he was still struggling to understand, even as he tried to deny its presence.

It was short-lived – the memory of your tender gaze soon faded away to a terrified one, and now he was remembering your scar. A new thought came into his mind then, dark and plaguing. The look of fear you’d given him that night - did you wear that same frightened expression on your face when you were burned, marked by whatever asshole laid their hands on you?

Dabi could feel his body temperature begin to rise.

The last towel was folded, and he swiftly grabbed the pile and shoved it on top of his dresser as if were contaminated. Contaminated with memories, contaminated with you…

He faltered for a moment, his anger disrupted by that strange sense of guilt that gnawed at him. The unwelcome mental picture of you cowering in fear as flames licked your skin danced in his imagination. No wonder you had been so utterly terrified of him that night. No wonder you’d been unable to look him in the eyes the next day…

Dabi caught himself staring at your things and forced himself to turn around to finish his laundry. He folded his clothes swiftly, not caring whether or not they were done nicely before shoving them into the dresser drawer. Then, with his clean towels in his arm, he went into the bathroom to give himself that much-needed shower.

* * * * *

You woke up feeling groggier than usual as the orange-red glow of the late afternoon haze filtered into your room. As predicted, your sleep was restless and riddled with hazy uncomfortable dreams that instantly began to fade away as soon as you opened your eyes. You sighed in annoyance as dissatisfaction slinked across your tired skin. It was as if you had slept the entire time with your body tensed, ready to run at a moment’s notice, and now you were feeling the effects.

You got out of bed with a stretch to ease the stiffness in your muscles. Maybe something to eat and drink could lift your spirits and wake your body up. You slipped on your shoes and opened the door before remembering to grab your mask off of your nightstand. Then, you left your room to trudge downstairs.

The smell of pizza greeted you as soon as you stepped out onto the main floor, and your stomach growled in response, your mouth watering.

“Y/N!” Toga cheered. “Did you take a nap?”

You frowned as your hand self-consciously went to your messy hair. Was it really that obvious?

“Yeah, I was pretty tired.” You confessed, as you tried to fix your stray strands.

“Are you feeling any better?” Magne asked. You could tell she was asking about the ‘flu’ you were supposed to have.

You shrugged. “Yeah, a little…”

“And how about Dabi? You were treating him too, right?” Magne continued.

You felt embarrassment bubble in you, and you scratched at your cheek as a distraction. “He’s doing okay… I think it’s hitting him harder, though. He’s probably going to need some more time to recover.”

“He came down here yesterday without a mask and everything.” Spinner grumbled. “Then decided to take a stroll. He couldn’t be that bad, could he?”

You shrugged. “Stomach bugs are weird and vary from person to person.”

Shigaraki’s voice surprised you from behind. “How’s his burn?”

He knew about that…? Maybe Dabi said something the day before. Either way, no point in lying about it now…

“It’s doing well... but it’s not completely healed yet.”

Shigaraki grunted and grabbed a slice of pizza from the open box sitting on the bar.

“Hey, Y/N! You want some pizza?” Twice offered.

“Yes, that’d be-“

“She can’t eat pizza when she has the flu!” Toga scolded. “She might throw it up. She needs something simple!”

Your heart sank. No pizza??

“No, it’s okay…” you started, your eyes staring at the perfect slice.

“I’ll go make you something, okay big sis?” Toga chirped as she bounded lightly towards the small kitchen behind the bar.

Oh… oh no….

“Oh, um… it’s okay Toga, I’m not really hungry…” you tried to call after her, but she was already gone and out of earshot.

You fiddled with your hands nervously. Cooking was not one of Toga’s strong suits. Fortunately, Kurogiri was present, watching the exchange.

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t burn down the kitchen.” He commented, as he followed after her.

You stood there awkwardly, strongly contemplating grabbing the entire pizza box and running away with it. But you’d just had that personal exchange with Toga earlier, so abandoning her when she was trying to do something nice for you probably wouldn’t go over well.

Damn it. You were too nice for your own good sometimes.

On defeated feet, you walked over to the couch and sat down next to Compress who was reading a book. He put the item down as you sat next to him and gave you a smile. “How nice of you to grace me with your company, little flower.”

You crossed your arms and sulked into the couch cushions, wishing they would swallow you up. “Toga is cooking for me.”

“Oh dear, so I heard.” He commented. “However, Kurogiri is supervising her. Perhaps this time it won’t be so bad.”

“Kurogiri doesn’t eat.” You pointed out.

“True,” he laughed. “But perhaps you set your standards too high. I never said he’d ensure that the food is good; however, his assistance may ensure that it is edible.”

“Don’t you use logic on me, Mr.” you replied, even as you tried to suppress a smile.

“Then perhaps a magic trick then?” he offered. “As a distraction.”

“Sure.” You grinned.

A few minutes later, Toga came out with two steaming bowls sitting on a rectangular tray.

“Oh good! You’re still here!” Toga smiled. “I made you soup!”

You stifled a groan as you stood up and stared at the contents. It… didn’t look bad…. It looked like it was canned soup at least, which, all things considered, were one of the simplest things to make. Still, it had that a slight burned odor to it when the steam reached your nose.

“Why are there two bowls?” you asked.

“Oh! One’s for you and one’s for Dabi.” Toga explained. Behind her, Magne chuckled at the table. “He hasn’t come down to eat yet today so he’s probably hungry.”

“It was my suggestion.” Kurogiri stated. “You are still sick after all, so it would be in the League’s interest if you and Dabi had your meals in your rooms until you are no longer contagious.”

“Maybe it can be like a little dinner date!” Toga added.

You fought the flush of hot heat that seemed to take over your insides. “A what?”

The last thing you needed was the League thinking you and Dabi were dating.

The blonde girl giggled as she handed you the tray. Her hands instantly went up to her hot cheeks, her eyes glazed over with infatuation. “What I wouldn’t give to have a private dinner date with Izuku!”

“Oh geez, not this again…” Spinner grumbled.

“Hey!” Toga shot at him. “It’s rude to tease a girl in love!”

You were grateful that Toga was easily distracted, and you took the opportunity to make your escape. “O-Okay. I guess I’ll go take this upstairs then… Thank you, Toga.” You mumbled.

You walked out of the room quickly, the soup sloshing in the bowls and threatening to spill. But you wanted to get out of there before things got even more awkward. Toga wasn’t even the real concern – the real concern was Magne. Her chuckle had not gone unnoticed by you, and she was a master conversationalist when she wanted to be. The last thing you needed was more intrusive questions or implied statements, especially with everyone there to listen in.

You took the stairs instead of the elevator, not trusting the old rust bucket to run smooth enough with bowls of hot soup in front of you.

Dinner date. You wanted to laugh. Dabi certainly wasn’t the type to do dinner dates. In fact, Dabi probably didn’t even date. He probably just hooked up with random girls whenever he felt like it.

Your stomach tightened into an uncomfortable knot.

It didn’t matter. You weren’t his type anyway. ��And he shouldn’t be yours, not with all of his baggage. And boy, did he seem to have a lot of baggage. Besides, he didn’t need the pressure of someone pining over him while he struggled to keep himself together. He needed someone he could trust. He needed a friend.

You felt yourself start to calm as you centered yourself on that single fact. He needed a friend. You could do that. You’d already committed yourself to it.

You made it to your own room and set the tray on the floor outside your door so you could go in and grab your medical bag. If you were going to take soup to Dabi, then you might as well treat his wounds and give him his pills. It was about time for it anyway. With your bag slung onto your shoulder and the tray once again in your hand, you went over to his door and knocked.

It opened and you froze, eyes wide, as a warm humid air wrapped you up in the scent of shampoo and body wash.

Dabi stood before you in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that left little to the imagination. Shit. It hadn’t even been a full five seconds and you were already staring at his crotch. Hot embarrassment flooded you as you averted your eyes, only to get stuck on his glistening, bare form. You’d seen him shirtless many times, had your hands on his body, even… but something about this moment was different. Maybe it was the shower. Maybe it was the simple - yet absolutely sinful - sweatpants. Or maybe it was how he seemed to be carrying himself in this moment, like he was the king of his domain. He was a living art piece, every angle of him stunning from the slope of his shoulders to the cut of his lean waist. Even his stitches looked beautiful, the light bouncing off of them like gems. Whatever it was, Dabi seemed to be a thousand times hotter than you remember him being, and it left your brain feeling dumb as hot desire washed over you.

You were staring. You knew you were staring but you couldn’t break the trance he seemed to put you in. Your eyes took in the cut of his cheekbones, the slope of his nose, the shape of his lips. Aqua blue eyes stared at you in knowing amusement, grabbing you like the tide and pulling you in. You could feel yourself floundering beneath his intense gaze as you struggled to get a hold of yourself.

“Uh…” you stuttered.

You were still staring.

“Hey, Doll…” He greeted, a playful grin on his lips. His voice washed over you, and you felt lightheaded.

This was so embarrassing. If he had any doubts that you found him attractive before, then he certainly didn’t now.

“Hi.” You said dumbly.

His eyes broke contact with yours to look down. “Hey-” His hand shot out to quickly grab the tilting tray, soup splashing messily over the sides of the bowls.

“Shit! Sorry, sorry.” You cursed, as you adjusted your hold. You kept your eyes down, unable to stare at him any longer. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah.”

Was that a chuckle you heard in his voice? How dare he.

You crossed the threshold, only to find yourself even more smothered by the clean scent of his recent shower that permeated the entire space like a fog. Beneath it, the faint hint of cigarette smoke was present, but it was muted. The light in the room was dimmer than you remembered and you realized why – he had put one of his shirts over his shoddy lamp, reducing its brightness. The humid warmth in the room was paired with a strange heavy silence. Your eyes instantly checked his window and there was no billow of the curtains this time, no street noise coming forth. Your breath froze in your throat for a moment as you realized – he remembered. All the things that had bothered you this morning were modified for your arrival. A weightlessness swelled in your chest, intertwining with the attraction you were still grappling with. You set the tray down with shaky hands before wiping your sweaty palms onto your pants.

Dabi came to stand next to you with his towel on his shoulder, the warm bare skin of his chest brushing against your arm as he stared down at the bowls. With his proximity so close and your own emotions running amok, it took every ounce of mental fortitude not to hug him right then and there.

“Did you make that?” he asked, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Oh, uh.. Toga did.” You finally said, as you moved slightly away from his bare skin.

“We should have let the tray fall.” He stated as he stared at the contents with distaste. You couldn’t help but laugh at his comment, and it helped clear some of the brain fog. He gave you a soft glare. “Why did you even take this? You should have just said no.”

“Well, not all of us can be as nice as you, Dabi.” You teased. “Besides, she wanted to do something nice for us because she thinks we’re sick.” You explained.

“If I eat that I probably will be.” He retorted.

“Oh, come on… it’s probably not that bad… just a little smokiness to it. That shouldn’t bother you, right?” You put a spoon into a bowl and handed it to him.

He gave you a deadpan look as you held the bowl against his chest, his hands refusing to take it. “I’m not eating it.”

“Hey, if I have to eat this, then so do you.” You glared.

“Like hell.” He replied. “Besides, I already have food here.”

You set the bowl down and stared at the bags on his desk. “Yes, chips, beef jerky, and cigarettes! So healthy.”

“The three basic food groups.” He agreed with a grin. He sat down in his desk chair, his legs spread wide as he slouched back. It took extra effort to not let your eyes wander. “Tell ya what, doll… you try it first. If you don’t throw up or die, then maybe I’ll consider eating mine.”

You rolled your eyes at him and grabbed your bowl. “Fine, you big baby.”

You filled your spoon and raised it to him in a mock toast before placing it into your mouth. He watched the motion in silent amusement, his eyes focused on your lips as they closed around the spoon.

It was awful. Definitely burnt. And the parts that weren’t burnt were overcooked, making the textures all wrong in your mouth. You swallowed forcefully, suppressing a gag.

“Mmm… You look like you enjoyed that.” Dabi teased.

“Hey at least I’ve actually tried it.” You shot back. “So, I guess that means only one of us is a little bitch.”

Dabi’s eyes widened, the light in them dancing in amusement, as a grin spread across his face. “You kiss your mother with that mouth, doll? You’ve been with the League too long.”

You pointed your spoon at him. “Don’t try to act like you know me. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not dead. So eat up.” You picked up his bowl again and held it under his nose. By this point, you knew the soup wasn’t really that edible, but now you were determined to have him suffer with you.

The smell wafted up and he wrinkled his nose. He pushed the bowl away back towards you. “I don’t think so.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You said you’d try it if I did.”

“I said I’d consider it.” He replied. “It’s been considered and denied.”

“You’re an ass.” You pouted. “It really is awful though…” you confessed. “and she had Kurogiri with her, too. Like… how?”

“Kurogiri doesn’t eat.” Dabi replied.

You laughed. “That’s what I told Compress!”

Your conversation was interrupted by a loud, hungry rumble in your gut.

A low chuckle rumbled from Dabi’s chest that made your heart pound and your flesh feel warm. “C’mon doll, don’t torture yourself.” He said. “Why don’t we just go get a bite to eat. There’s nothing keeping us locked up in here.”

Toga’s words echoed in your head. Dinner date. Oh geez, if she or Magne saw you two leaving the premises together, you’d never hear the end of it. The offer was tempting though, and you were pretty sure Dabi was starting to get tired of his snacks. Junk food could only satisfy for so long; at some point he needed a proper meal.

But something nagged at you as you stared at the man in front of you. He seemed to be doing okay at first glance… his recent shower certainly seemed to lift his spirits. But you had been too distracted by his attractiveness earlier that you hadn’t taken the time to really assess him. Now, you could see the exhaustion still in his face, could see the small wiggle of his leg and the drumming of his fingers on the table. You checked the time on your phone – no doubt your quirk and the pills were beginning to wear off. But how far along that was, you couldn’t really say; it was hard to tell with Dabi; he didn’t show his pain very easily.

You knew your appetite would disappear once you pushed yourself into sensory overload. But Dabi couldn’t wait, even if he might try to play it off that he could. More importantly, you didn’t want to try to deal with a withdrawal-suffering Dabi out in public. Your heart sank slightly. Goodbye delicious dinner, for the second time that night.

“…I should probably treat you first.” Your eyes landed on his bag of goods as your stomach rumbled again. “But maybe a snack would be good.” You confessed. You felt embarrassed for asking, especially after the big show you’d just point on… but pride had to take a back seat before your stomach ate itself.

His blue eyes stared at you for a long moment. You could feel your skin start to prickle under the weight of them.

“Sure, doll.” He finally said. He rummaged through one of the bags until he found what he was looking for under a bag of spicy chips. “Is this your style?”

He tossed you a prepackaged muffin about the size of a softball. You couldn’t fight the smile that blossomed across your face. “Yeah, thanks.” You opened up the wrapping and began breaking off pieces of it. “You want some?” you offered, holding the muffin towards him.

He shook his head. “Nah. Don’t feel much like eating.”

You broke off half of the muffin for him anyway. “I still need to give you your pills, so you should eat something first. Besides, this is too big for me to finish by myself anyway.”

Was it a lie? Of course. You were starving. Did Dabi know that you were lying? Of course. But he took the other half of the muffin anyway. You sat on the edge of his bed while he sat in his chair as the two of you ate together in silence for a moment. As you ate, your eyes wandered around his room.

That was when you noticed it.

“Are those my towels?” you asked.

Dabi looked over at his dresser as he stuffed the last of the muffin into his mouth. “Yeah. They’re clean now.”

“Thank you…” you replied. Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the details. “You cleaned up…”

Dabi shrugged. “Don’t sound so surprised. I’m not a complete slob.”

You stared at him as he began fidgeting with a pack of cigarettes, tapping the box on the table, flipping it over, and tapping the other end. Over and over it somersaulted, and you wondered if he was craving one right now. Why didn’t he just take one out and light it up?

Was Dabi… being considerate?

Then again, the action didn’t come as much of a surprise to you as it might have before. He’d been more willing to do small acts of kindness ever since the night of his withdrawal. Bringing ramen. Adjusting his room for your sensory overload.

Now this.

Was it fueled by guilt? Or did he actually care?

He looked like he was waiting for something. You watched as he rubbed at his scarred arm with his free hand, irritation flashing across his eyes. Of course. He was waiting for you and your quirk. You ate your muffin faster. As soon as it had disappeared into your mouth, you reached for your bag and took out the pill bottle. His eyes were on it instantly, the shaking in his leg stilled by the sight of it, his shoulders releasing some of their tension.

“Here.” You offered, handing him his pills. He took them and swallowed them dry before opening up a beverage and taking a swig.

Dabi eyed the bottle in your hand as you closed it. “That’s looking awfully low there, isn’t it?”

You put the container back in your bag, enclosing it in a zippered space. “It’ll be enough to last us through tomorrow morning.”

“That’s cutting it real close, don’tcha think?” he replied.

You looked up to see his brow furrowed in concern and offered him a reassuring smile. “It is. But I’ll be picking up the refills tomorrow before our evening session, so there’s nothing to worry about. Now let’s take a look at your back real quick.”

He stood up and dragged his chair over to where you sat and straddled the seat with his back facing you. The bandage was still on, but you could tell it had gotten wet in the shower. You’d have to be careful when changing it this time, since the bits of skin that were starting to heal might reopen.

You applied your quirk first around the bandages, then began to delicately remove the wet gauze and tape. Your fingers were cold on Dabi’s skin and a small shiver ran up his spine at the sensation of your touch. The wound didn’t show any signs of infection or fresh damage, so you continued business as usual, applying the antiseptic followed by fresh gauze. As you patched him up, your eyes kept drifting to your towels, thinking about what had happened that night. There was something important you’d been meaning to ask him. Something you had to know.

“I… have a question.” You ventured.

“Hm?” Dabi responded, his head turning slightly to the sound of your voice.

“The next day… after I helped you out that one night… was there anything… off? About you specifically?” you asked.

There was a long pause and you could tell Dabi was thinking heavily, which only made the dread in your gut sink in deeper.

“I couldn’t feel anything.” He finally admitted.

“I’m not talking about the pain. I’m talking about… I don’t know. Anything else.”

“I know.” He replied. “When I woke up, I couldn’t feel anything.”

Your brow furrowed and the dread hardened into a stone. “…what does that mean?”

“It means I didn’t care about a thing, doll. Everything was turned off.” He was facing away from you and in that moment, you wished he wasn’t – you desperately wanted to see the expression on his face. Your hands felt clammy as you processed his words.

“You mean your emotions?” you clarified. You needed to understand more. You needed to know how bad it was. “What… did it feel like?”

“Empty.”

You finished putting the last bandage on him but you barely noticed as your vision became unfocused, your thoughts whirling. Holy shit. You had turned off his emotions? You supposed in hindsight it made sense, since it was likely his memories and the emotions attached to them that were torturing him that night. Why else would he have been blabbering incoherent apologies as if he were desperately trying to atone for something? But still… the severity of that made your blood run cold. Emotions were everything, contrary to what some people might think. They fuel how people think, how they act, how they react… entire personalities – entire identities are built around how emotions are felt and how they are dealt with. You very well could have entirely erased Dabi as a person. In fact, you likely did, at least temporarily.

You swallowed the hard lump in your throat and tried to calm your panicked breathing. “…How long did it last?”

He was quiet again, and the silence was worse than anything.

“Please tell me.” You begged. “How long?”

“Hours.”

Your heart was racing and your ears ringing. Your eyes began to sting but you fought it, focusing on a patch of scarred flesh on his back to distract yourself, memorizing its pattern. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not again. And certainly not twice in one day. You wanted to apologize, to beg his forgiveness, but you couldn’t make the words come out, not without your emotions spilling out with them. Instead, you forced yourself into action, treating his scars with your quirk.

There was so much more you wanted to know. How did he get his emotions back? What did it feel like? Was it slow, or at all at once? Did he feel relieved?

Did it hurt?

But you couldn’t bring yourself to ask those questions, no matter how badly you wanted to know, no matter how badly you wanted to understand. They were too personal, and you could already tell by Dabi’s growing reluctance that he didn’t want to talk about it any further.

You’d apologize to him. At some point, once your emotions were under control, you’d apologize.

You finished numbing his back and shoulders, even tracing down his triceps a little. “Turn around,” you instructed.

He did as you asked, adjusting himself in the chair so he was now facing you. You avoided looking at him, the shame and guilt far too heavy for you to lift your eyes. Unbeknownst to you, a frown pulled at his brow, his lips. You wore your emotions so plainly…

You took his hand in yours and continued your quirk as your skin began to prickle and sting. The sound of the shower dripping in the bathroom was louder now. Dabi shifted slightly in his chair and the scraping sound against the floor was like nails on a chalkboard. The odors in the room went from pleasant to offensive.

“I gotta question for ya,” Dabi suddenly ventured. “Did you change my clothes that night?”

Your hands faltered and you glanced up at his face before you could catch yourself. His eyes had a glint in them you couldn’t quite place in your distracted mental state. You felt embarrassment creep across your skin.

“I did. I had to get you into the shower before you combusted.” You replied as you continued to treat him, your hands on his collarbone. The feel of it was so familiar now…

“I was naked?”

“Only for a moment!” you replied. “You were in your boxers for most of it, but I had to change you out of those after the shower.” God, this entire conversation was so embarrassing… why did he have to ask about this of all things?

“…did ya peek?” he asked.

Your mouth struggled like a fish out of water for a moment as you glared at him. “NO!” You finally exclaimed. “Of course, I didn’t! Why would you even…” but then you saw the grin on his face and you realized he was teasing you.

You playfully punched his arm. “You’re an asshole.” You fumed.

He laughed. “That didn’t even hurt.” He mocked.

“Of course it didn’t, idiot. I already used my quirk there.” You shot back. “Now stay still so I can get your damn face.”

“So feisty…” he murmured.

Shit. With your senses heightened, you could almost feel the vibration in his voice, as if he were closer to you than he actually was. For the briefest moment, it distracted you from the growing pain of your scar, from the sound of the drip drip from the bathroom shower. You wondered what it would feel like to have those words uttered against your skin, his hot breath warming your flesh, the feel of his rough lower lip brushing…

You clenched your jaw until you nearly gave yourself a headache, forcing the intrusive thoughts out of your mind. You weren’t here for this. You were here to treat him and get out of his space. You weren’t his type. You repeated it to yourself like a mantra, a prayer, a reminder to the illogical part of you that wanted to follow the lure of his voice. Why did he have to be such a flirt? It didn’t surprise you, but it certainly left you feeling confused when his actions and words sometimes contradicted themselves.

All it meant was that he was getting comfortable with you again. He was treating you like a friend, and friends teased all the time. Right?

His eyes watched you closely as your hands caressed his jaw, relieving the ache there. You seemed lost in your thoughts and while you certainly didn’t look comfortable, you also didn’t look too be too horribly in pain. You were doing better today. Still, your fingers danced quickly across his skin, skating under his eyes which he instinctively closed, and barely touching his lower lip. It happened far too quickly before the presence of you disappeared, and it left him feeling empty. How badly he wanted to grab your hands right then and put them back onto his face.

When he opened his eyes again, your own eyes were downcast as you stretched your fingers slightly.

“You okay?” he ventured. The question sounded odd coming from him, even to his own ears.

You looked up at him then, and you could see he was concerned. That’s right… he knew about your quirk and your scar now. You clasped your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking. Shaking from the pain you were feeling, shaking from the fear of your own thoughts and desires.

“I’m fine.” You lied. Did he know you were lying with this too?

He knew. In fact, you’d given him the same false words he always gave you. It was like looking into a mirror.

“You don’t gotta do the legs.” He offered. “I’m not dressed for it anyway.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You chided. “Of course I’m going to do your legs. The better I treat you, the better you can rest. And your body needs rest to heal your burn.”

He noticed that you made no comment on his withdrawal, which a part of him appreciated; it helped him avoid the discomfort of shame that was always associated with it. Still…

“It’s not like I’m going anywhere, doll. I won’t be needing them. Besides, the drugs help.” He replied.

You eyed him for a moment, assessing. “How about I just do your calves then?” you bartered.

He assessed you in return before he gave a small half-smirk. “Deal.”

By the time you’d treated his calves down to the tops of his feet, you were definitely grateful you didn’t have to do any more.

PING……..PING……

You rubbed at the bridge of your nose, feeling the onset of a headache as you skirted just shy of overload. You closed your eyes, hoping maybe the lack of visual stimulation might make the auditory more bearable. Or at least bearable enough that you could actually move your body instead of feeling frozen. But it only made it worse, allowing your brain to hyperfixate on it. You covered your ears against it as you struggled to find your way out of it, to regain control of yourself.

While you lost yourself in your senses, Dabi watched you in displeasure. He’d made sure to have everything ready before you showed up. He even made sure not to light up a cigarette, as much as that had grated on him, since he knew the smell would linger long after. But clearly, something was bothering you. What had he missed?

He watched, waiting, giving you time to figure yourself out or ask for help while he secretly tried to decode the mystery. Your eyes were closed, your hands over your ears. Was it multiple sensory attacks? You flinched again. And again. There was a rhythm. So, it was something you were hearing.

Curiously, Dabi closed his own eyes listening for anything that stood out. Slowly, the quiet sound of water dripping greeted his ears like a whisper. He opened his eyes just in time to see your flinch match with the sound.

That was it.

“It’s the shower.” He commented.

It wasn’t a question – it was a statement. You opened your eyes and looked at him with surprise before giving a nod, your hands still over your ears. He knew his shower leaked for a bit after he used it, but he’d gotten so used to it that he just tuned out the sound by this point. But for you… especially after using your quirk on him…

Why didn’t you just get up and leave? Why stay here if it was bothering you this much? Obviously, you wanted to get away from it…

Maybe you couldn’t. Maybe, for some reason, you were stuck in what you were experiencing, unable to find your way out.

Dabi could relate to that.

And he didn’t like it.

He stood up and closed the bathroom door before returning to sit in the chair in front of you, waiting.

You could still hear it. But it was manageable now, muffled. Quieter. You could feel yourself start to process the rest of what you were feeling. The pain on your back; the feel of your clothes, your hair; the smell of Dabi’s body wash, fresh linen… cigarettes. Slowly, your hands lowered from your ears as you focused on each sense, identifying all you recognized. The world was still loud around you, but at least you could somewhat function again. Slowly, you opened your eyes to see him watching you through an unreadable expression.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much.” You replied. “Thank you. Again.”

“It’s fine.”

A heavy, awkward quiet filled the space, and in that moment, despite Dabi’s kindness, all you wanted was to be back safely in your room. Maybe it was because you were feeling overwhelmed by your own emotions, unable to properly control how your heart pounded around him, or how you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. Or maybe it was the way he kept looking at you, his expression unreadable yet his gaze intense, as if you were all that he was focused on and he was determined to discover all of your secrets.

Either way, you felt an ache grow within you, threatening to drown you. But you couldn’t focus on it, couldn’t dismantle it or bury it, not while your brain fought the senses overwhelming you. You could handle one or the other… but you couldn’t handle both.

You needed the comfort of your room; you needed your safe space.

“I’m… going to go lay down.” You said quietly, as you grabbed your bag. It felt heavy in your hand.

If Dabi noticed the shift in your mood, he didn’t say so. Instead, he stood from his seat and shoved his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants.

“Yeah. Me too.” He replied.

Despite the suddenly aloof atmosphere, he still walked you to his door. After you left, he leaned his back against the cold wood and ran his hand down his face.

So much for not caring…

________________________________________________

Part 10 ________________________________________________

Taglist (always open!): @lemonfvck @vs-redemption @inanabsentia @sheedaabee @toshiuwuu @marydragneell @chillinwithmybakubros @genuinelytodorokisbitch @sam-i-am-1025 @redflannel @axerrri @necccomancy @miadraws0 @hot-pocket01 @hopelessdisasterr @dummythiccwitch @villainsdeku @aquzairus @officialtrashbusiness @hemdem018 @purplesweethart @doebopeepeebbod @ghost-of-todoroki @marvel-philosophy @lysawayne @udontneedtokno @citrussaurus @littleladdty @starsforannie @zunmie @mae-rd @mrsreina @ohh-takuuu @ih8beefnoodles @kellyyween @jojoniles @steale24 @peach-tea-0 @orenjineki @diobrandoatemykids @minionsexuall @liitlesushi�� @jojoniles @bilalbambi @tinitimesims125 @emmappelle @babayaga67 @off-brand-overhaul @levenin @exxzy @wootato

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#dabi x reader #dabi #dabi x you #touch #dabi touch #soft dabi #pining #slow burn #TW: blood #TW: needles #TW: killing #TW: violence

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mimibtsghost7 · 3 years

Note

Fuck you and all your little brain washed rats sending people hate because you cant take responsibility for your actions!! But go on stay silent like you always do, pretend its nothing of your business, keep being a fetishizing racist delulu like you love to be while pretending to be the best blog on tumblr!!!

NOT like anyone will see this but YOU will so LET’S GOOO!!!~~

TW: mental health and more (if you feel like this can trigger you, pls don’t read this, breathe in and out and listen to this HERE and remember I love you), loads of tea and Mimi NOT being a friendly and kind ghost.

funny enough:

I never pretended of said I was the best blog. But I guess the fact that you say it might be because you heard it frequently? Thanks for thinking so^^

I sent hate to no one and u r the one sending it to me rn ^^ In my whole 4 year journey on Tumblr I received a lot of love but also worse hate that you can imagine. Yes you are saying now you are receiving hate ... funny how it’s bad when It’s addressed to you but when it’s at me and my dear followers it is not. Still, I never told anyone to go hate on you. You were the idiot that tagged my old blog and as soon as my blog was gone pple searched me and found out you were the reason behind this. But as you keep hating on me. Let me tell you I am kind but don’t mistake that for me being a coward.

I am not into insulting others and I don’t care much if you insult me. BUT don’t YOU DARE touch my dear followers. Insulting ain’t hard. Let me try: The only rat here is you hiding in your hole as an anon. I went and compared your writing with this ask and previous hate asks. And it was you~ Good for you~ the sewers smell just like your filthy mouth spilling sh*t left and right. So on brand. However, I know who you are @hobisbeautifulass Hi ^^

Me racist? HAHAHAHAH you truly know NOTHING about me nor my ex-blog’s message. It was a place when you were welcomed no matter your skin color, religion, gender ... proof? well it got deleted thanks to you. but ask around this time and search for who reblogged my posts as they were always the top of the tags (even if I don’t trust how bad you are at research). I supported the BLM movement and still do and will always do but I did so veeery early without anyone telling me. Not for the notes but because of my humanity. I wished my dear followers’ happy holidays no matter their religions. And never cared about those things. Why judge someone on something based on religion or how they were born. As for the LGBTQ+ community, I was always and will always be there for love being love. I talked about mental health and opened venting nights. I helped left and right and when I was receiving hate because of people like you spitting lies about me. What did I do? Did I go online and called people bad? No. I looked back at myself and asked myself if I did anything wrong. I tried to educate myself and apologized sincerely when I had to. I read books and watched documentaries to learn how to become a better human. AND never repeated a mistake twice. You tend to forget that our cultures are different and sometimes you grow up to see some things as normal when they are not. This is not an excuse tho, so I always believed that I was lacking and if someone had something to say against me, there is a chance they are right and just in case I should reflect on myself. But for your case it was pure nonsense. ME? a stalker? how can I stalk when I have social anxiety and at that time couldn’t even leave my room? I am even afraid of taking public transportations and just the other days I was crying from joy when I took a taxi alone. they said I was in Japan stalking Jimin and Jungkook and took a pic when I was NEVER EVER was on that land. You put me on the same list as people who bought info about BTS’ flights to be on the same plane as them? I was stalked before and let me tell you it ain’t cute and fun. I am even scared of the idea of being followed. that’s why I never shared openly my age, country, or anything about me on my blog. that’s why I have no personal social media to this day and that’s why making my ex-blog was some sort of miracle in my life.

Silent? yes I was silent when I received hate and didn’t even vent to my dear followers or pointed fingers. Why? because I thought as my day was hell I shouldn’t make anyone’s day worse. I was worried about my dear followers with mental illnesses being triggered. I tried to take my life so many times I lost count but I still came here and smiled. It was my safe place and you took it away. Yet, I should pity you? You hated on me first for no reason and you know it deep inside but right now you are trying to convince yourself that you are the angel and feel no guilt. Compared to you. I pointed fingers at no one and didn’t name you when my blog was gone. Why? because compared to you, I thought you will not be able to manage the hate and what was done .. I didn’t want you to suffer the same way I did when you are the one who made me suffer the most the past couple of days. But the kind Mimi is someone you will never remember because you dared touch the friends I love and calling them names. I don’t mind people insulting me but don’t you dare touch my people. I know myself best. My dear friends/followers know me best. I thought ... I could leave without this mess but you keep barking in my ask box and it’s annoying. I left this backup account just to talk to my friends and yet you are here to ruin things again? I should stop being kind to the ones who deserve non of it. I ignored you when I had so many followers and you went silent too because you were scared of me. But as soon as I lost my blog because of you, you went, edited and then reblogged that stalker post. How can I be a stalker? do you even know the definition of a stalker? do you even know shame? well .. I don’t think so.. you said it yourself. You are NOT ashamed (and you reblogged that so many time lol).

Death threats? this is no competition but thanks to people like you I have been there and wish no one to be there not even you. The only difference is that you almost killed me for real. You were not the sole reason? Great job walking away from you beloved word: RESPONSIBILITY. And I didn’t get just anon hate, I got literal tagging by people like you, DMs, and people pointing guns at me. That’s why I didn’t mention you. I was worried about the one who took away what I worked for for 4 YEARS. I was more sad and concerned about the ARMY fandom here. Do you know how many rely on my updates? do you know how many people said I helped them? do you know any of that? do you think 200k people were “rats”? Do you think if I did and say wrong thing I will not be questioned by those people. I always told my dear followers: “friends, if I do or say anything wrong or share anything that hurts anyone please tell me. I am willing to learn from everyone.” But what did you know? what did you do? Well .. guess you love notes? As the most notes you ever got and the most attention was when talking about me?

Love how you talk about fetishing when my blog was what people call “family friendly”. I also like BTS. I love them for their music, talent, personalities and the happiness they give me. I also enjoy BTS’ bond and love their interactions. I posted content of all kinds of interactions JM X JK, JK X V, V X JIN, JIN X SG, SG X JH, JH X RM, RM X JM ... If you are calling this fetishing asian men just because I scream over BTS as a fan and love their bonb. Then aren’t you against the idea of being an ARMY? I was a clear OT7 and you were told that you weren’t right:

Then you answered this without even explaining the nonsense about me:

idk .. I am trying to find sense in your nonsense so .. wait wait let me look at the definition of fetishism first.

Fetishism /ˈfɛtɪʃɪz(ə)m/ noun: a form of sexual behavior in which gratification is linked to an abnormal degree to a particular object, activity, part of the body, etc.

Then .. judging from your URL alone hmmm ... cute. I won’t even talk about the SMUT you write that is full of kinks and fetishism. Well I have no problem with fan fiction but the irony you spit is out of this world.

Also, I made money out of mimibtsghost? HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH no lil one. I worked day and night for FREE. At some point when BT21 just came out and there were no products on AMAZON or anywhere but S.Korea, someone reached out to me to offer 20% off or something for my dear followers. When they asked what I wanted I said what about international giveaways for my dear followers. Basically, made gifs, found content, updates, analysis, edits, and so on for free. Again, w-wait .. Aren’t you the one asking for commissions? Well .. It’s not wrong. But again THE irony.

So, I went to see that post you made about me with “PROOF” and it was just another person who was salty as I got them blocked I can’t even recall who they were but oh well. Their arguments according to YOU and many should be taken as FACTS just because they said them? You said HERE that your first comeback was MOST:7 that came in just last year (2020) SO what the hell do YOU know about what happened years before you came when all the proof you pointed at where baseless without any backing?

Let’s see this so wise person you used to delete my blog and what I have done ^^

The gifs: There is a story to this. The first week I came to Tumblr, It was my first time on this site and the first time I share anything. I shared some content and my analysis had a lot of notes for a small creator that started just a week ago. But I made a mistake, I found a gif and posted it while crediting the gif maker. At the time I had NO idea it was wrong. I logged off and after 5 hours I log in and there was a WAR for that ONE gif. The big blog had me blocked and her friend was telling me to take it off. As soon as the person told me I did IMMEDIATELY and apologized againa and again and told them to tell the original gif maker to deblock me as I want to apologize directly and that they can block me after that. They did and I apologized but they just kept insulting me. Of course it was MY mistake and that’s why I apologized. But for them. for a mere gif (yes I say a mere gif because I made so many gifs and they were used on all platforms but I never thought it was necessary to hate that much on someone like they did to me). That blog was big and had big blog mutuals. Thanks to that, I became someone you do NOT become mutuals with but block and never reblog content from. Without any big mutuals. Without any shoutouts. Only my love for BTS, my dear followers’ support and my hard work.. My blog, became bigger and FAST (I got 10k in less than 6 months after I started) and that brought loads of jealousy and thus more rumors. Even if, I apologized and since then made my own gifs. And I made SO many gifsets that I can’t remember how many there were. What I can recall is at some point I made them daily and many times a day.

Ships Jikook? I posted content of ALL the members interactions. I was here at a time where Jikook stans and Taekook stans where always fighting. BUT I posted about both and even made so many posts to encourage loving all the members and all the interactions. I also used the tags solely used for shipping with other big tags to show that BTS’ interactions are all important and their bond is beutiful. That our fandom shouldn’t hate on a member just because they are not part of a ship we like. And wait .. even if I shipped Jikook? I got called ALL those names by someone who ship the members with readers and write sexual scenes? Like, wait ... I am truly confused. Like, write fanfic and do all you want as long as you hurt no one I guess but why am I getting hurt for doing non of it? Like according to you, the person you should be cancelling is yourself?! I am also not into cancel culture like you so hahah whatever.

Posted stalker pics: well wow the story changes each time. Next thing you will hear that I was the one holding a camera for a member in a Vlive lol. Let me teach you about this update thing I was doing. I follow accounts I trust and that’s how we get info circulating fast. I always do reasearch but sometimes mistakes are made. For example when lately people shared pictures of BTS leaving their virtual concerts and schedules. There was a watermark of a news outlet. Normally we trust those but only later we realized that those people stalked BTS. You clearly can’t know it all. But I still didn’t share many pics related to many events (I will not name those as pple can search them even now because some pple never deleted those). And all big accounts shared many pics then deleted later. This happens all the time but it happened like ONCE for me. However, I am called a stalker for that?

When Jonghyun passed away ... I don’t even wanna recall that night as the memories just ... when that happened I posted about it and send my condolescences. that post had over 10k notes and was at the top the tag. Why did I do that? I was devastated. Yes, many were but I will talk about me rn: I was suicidal the days before that and one of the songs that I listened to when I was broken where by him. I has been in the kpop world since 2006. And learned about his group since their debut with ‘Replay’. I was never a stan but I still knew of many groups and listened to all the songs I liked. I was very sad when he was gone and ANGRY mostly. Why is this angel leaving? Why is someone like me still here? Why did I not leave instead of him? How much did he suffer? And in the midst I posted a post from twitter that stated how agencies usually put down pple with mental illiness and hide it in the industry. Yes, that was important but NOT at that time. I shouldn’t have posted that and I realized after 5 min of doing so that it was WRONG. So I deleted it FAST but it kept being reblogged and I kept getting hate and people telling me: “Go kill yourself”... the sad part is that I almost did as my answer was “true ... why am I still here?” I apologized and logged off then to this day won’t forget crying at 3 AM while walking outside next to my dad. I was outside as I couldn’t breathe anymore and the idea of seeing the walls of my room was hell. I cried and cried and the teary eyes that my father looked at me with are something I am ashamed of to this day. To add one more thing while I am spilling the beans. I hate learning about someone dying. My grandma passed away sometime before that and it was so shocking to me. and some people came and told me when I was mourning her: Go follow that bitch of grandmother of yours. And for what? At that moment I didn’t think I would live to see the next year but I went to therapy and took medecine that was hurting and made me shake all day just to turn somewhat sane. No one knew tho ... I smiled all day and cried all night.. Even on the blog I fought no one of the ones who hated me. I just blocked them but even that was an insult to them?

Again, you said no one should defend me. Yet, you were ready to fight whoever touched anyone around you. What about changing your URL to beautifulassirony

Also THE hypocrisy. If you are sorry then why are you answering an ask of someone isulting someone you want to apologize to? Just make a post wher you apologize or ignore it from the start?

One more thing but surely not the last. You said you were good with research which you are NOT. So, let me show you what an OG detective ARMY can do. But first, as I was scrolling I saw some of your “work” (let’s not even talk about those gifs) and I am just giving my point of view here: I hate how you painted Namjoon as this horny-idiotic-make-dog. Like I get it it’s a fanfic or Namjoon as a dad but ... Namjoon is such a smart man who is very respectful and ofc he is a human with needs like many but what the hell is this way of portraying a character? Also a character is not cool, amazing, and a strong woman just because they curse and belittle their partner.

Oh well, only you kept reblogging that as it show 36 reblogs when only 33 as still there when I looked and out of those 13 reblogs are yours? (you might have reblogged it more) but again some people might have liked ... people have different taste ... so ... whatever.

Let’s continue, shall we ^^. You said you were the victim here when I was the one getting robbed right? How can I believe someone who reblogged the post below and was proud calling themselves an abomination or how the Oxford dictionary defines it: a thing that causes disgust or loathing. For once you weren’t wrong.

What can you expect from someone who has the “I am not like others” kinda mentality while stating relatable things that everyone goes through?

This is getting pretty long. So to sum this up. You are now telling others that hate is NOt ok and that they should be ashamed of themselves when you yourself is not ashamed of hating on me?

I am not the type that sends anon hate. I might ignore some barking but the past days you came and bite me hard. I face the ones I have to face without fear. I know I am not the bad guy here and I don’t care much what you think about me. Even BTS got haters. This says a lot. BUT do NOT dare talk badely of my dear friends/followers. You said you do research well? Start by deleting the post below that was originally by ME from your blog ... oh how meticulous you are. From your baseless receipts to your twisted logic. Indeed people on the internet can say anything and it will be FACTS. You painted me as the devil and painted yourself as this researcher? What’s next you receiving a Phd in ‘pity me’ after your MBA in lies and irony? Whatever~

Whaaatever~ Karma will have upcoming talks with you. No need for you to apologize. I never cared about you and you only got attention using me. But I am not here anymore how will you get that blog running now? Are you gonna add me in a fanfic next? No need for you to send me my appearance fee when you do so~ And no need for you to apologize to me just apologize to you conscience if you have any left. As for me @hobisbeautifulass you are just someone I will forget soon anyway~~

And because according to what you said HERE when you described the things you hate about people and I thought that was VERY close to how you treated me. Thus, you might really not stand yourself rn.

Do.Not.Worry. BTS are starting the Love Myself campaign again and just in time for you to jump in (you are good at jumping to conclusions about me so I won’t worry about you). I know you don’t like me or my friends but be sure to love yourself at least ^^

You are a Hobi stan? Then learn from Hobi to share some sunshine not bring the storm. Have a good day~

#Anonymous #hobisbeautifulass #don't mind the typos as I wrote this in one go #just because I am someone who do not punch back when someone hit me do not mean I will stand nicely when you touch my people #anyway~ bye~#mimibtsghost

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pillage-and-lute · 4 years

Text

Thicker Than Water (Part 2)

Part 1, (Here) Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Ao3 link HERE

Here we are y’all, it only gets sadder before we heal the hurt.

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Of all the eyes he could have met, purely by chance, in a forest while running from people who wanted to kill him, Yennefer’s were not the one’s he would have chosen. He wasn’t sure who he’d like to see right now. Geralt definitely, but also not. It was only a small mercy Geralt wasn’t with his witchy lady love right now.

She met his eyes, intense and unexpected, like heat lightning. She looked him up and down, lip curling, disgusted and pitying, but somehow not as unkindly as he’d expected. She turned.

“Geralt,” she yelled. “I found your pet.”

Shit. Shit shit shit.

He was about to turn and...run? Hide? What could he do? But then a pale face peeked around a tree. White blonde hair, bright, cautious eyes.

Then the girl gasped and ran forward.

“Dandelion!” The rising cry of delight frightened birds from the trees and a blue blur rushed at him. He was slammed to the ground by a rather bedraggled princess and he had never been so glad.

Of all the people he had burdened, he’d never felt like one around Ciri. Her arms were a vice around his neck. He hadn’t been hugged like that since his sister had passed away and he sat up in the cold, damp leaves, clutching her to him. She looked up at him with a face like a moonbeam.

“I found the white wolf, from your stories,” she said. Her eyes were big and trusting and she seemed to expect Jaskier to be pleased and proud. And he was. He had no doubt that Geralt and Ciri would be good for one another. The issue was that now he had to deal with--

“Jaskier.”

Shit. Geralt.

He stood, setting Ciri gently down and brushing himself off. He turned.

“Hello Geralt,” he said evenly. He hoped it was evenly. Don’t yell at me, he thought. Don’t tell me I’m a burden again, as he stared into impassive golden eyes. I know I’m a burden but just let me leave, I won’t bother you again but I can’t bear it.

“Dandelion can come with us, right Geralt?” Ciri said. The White Wolf raised one eyebrow.

“Dandelion?”

Ciri clutched Jaskier’s hand in one of her mittens. “He played at my name day banquets, all of them, but Jaskier’s hard to say when you’re a baby.”

Geralt met Jaskier’s eyes and it felt like a physical blow.

“Hmmm,” he said.

“Little highness,” Jaskier said sweeping his most over the top bow. “I am afraid I cannot stay, and shall have to part from your delightful company.”

“Is Nilfguaard not looking for you,” Yennefer said cooly.

“They’ve yet to find me.”

“Yet,” Yennefer said. “Isn’t good enough.”

“If they find you they’ll know our secrets,” Geralt said. That hurt. Jaskier would rather die. That Geralt thought Jaskier would give him up, even if they hadn’t parted as friends, stung like salt in an already gaping wound.

“Jaskier you have to come with us,” Ciri said, dragging on his hand. “Please I’ve seen so few people I know come with us.” He couldn’t resist that. He was strong but not that strong. He looked to Geralt hesitantly.

Geralt wouldn’t want him along. He was a shit shoveler and a burden who would only eat their food and make them move slower. But as Geralt had pointed out, Nilfguaard wanted him dead too. They could just kill him here and now. Geralt could have his life’s blessing, but he wouldn’t because he was a good man.

Geralt nodded. “Come,” he said in that rough rumble that Jaskier had missed.

He was coming along. But this time was going to be different. Jaskier wouldn’t be a nuisance or a burden. He wouldn’t talk too much, or get into trouble. He wouldn’t use up rations. He wouldn’t complain. Jaskier set his teeth like steel agains words falling out and nodded.

They slept that night in the forest. It was cold and winter was reaching icy tendrils towards them. Yennefer had a magical tent, but it could only sleep two. She and Ciri claimed it and Jaskier could see why. Yennefer was strong as always but her posture drooped sometimes. She was exhausted. Jaskier had heard of the battle at Sodden, and could only image. Ciri of course needed somewhere warm to sleep. Geralt and Jaskier just pitched tents on either side of the fire.

Jaskier hadn’t eaten with them that night, telling them instead that he’d eaten earlier.

He hadn’t, and his stomach burbled unhappily as he set his tent, but he hummed low so that Geralt wouldn’t hear it. Between risking annoying Geralt and using rations that the others needed, Jaskier would be annoying. It hurt to think of though.

His one man tent was little more than cloth draped between some sticks, but it could be folded up and it was light. He’d patched it so much that it looked like a quilt, but it would keep some of the rain off. He glanced at the moon, almost totally obscurred by clouds. It looked like rain.

Ciri begged for a song and a story but he told her he was too tired.

It was partially true. He hadn’t been eating well lately, preferring to drink his meals, and he’d been walking for days, but he was never too tired to perform, simply too wary of fraying Geralt’s nerves.

It did rain that night, and the pitiful tent dripped freezing water onto him, and the ground was cold and damp and he woke up soaked and shivering before dawn.

No one was up. That was rare, Geralt slept like a tree. As in, he didn’t. Half winks and meditation were most of his sleep schedule, the occasional deep sleep left him snoring and out for at least nine hours, but Jaskier had seen that perhaps a dozen times in twenty years.

Now, though, the mosring was still and the light was dim, causing grey shadows to lurk on the edge of vision, and yet somehow it wasn’t ominous. His body ached and he was cold. Not a patch on him wasn’t damp and clammy, and an acorn or a rock had dug into his back all night.

Regardless, he packed up his tent and gear, changing into some, only mildly dryer, clothes, and then he went in search of firewood.

Jaskier had to stray much farther from the camp than he would have liked to find dry wood, but he found enough to soon have a small fire crackling merrily. He’d even found some berries he recognized for breakfast. If he foraged now, he wouldn’t eat the much needed rations.

Geralt crawled out of his tent and hummed appreciatively at the fire. That felt good. Jaskier had done something right. Not a burden.

“Look at all this fog, Geralt. Like a blanket don’t you think?” Jaskier said, poking the fire into a better arrangement. “Reminds me of that time we...” He trailed off. Geralt was scowling, face like a thundercloud and eyes like lightening. Jaskier hadn’t seen that much anger on a face since...

The mountain.

Right.

And here he was prattling on right after he told himself he wouldn’t be a burden.

“Well, you remember,” he finished lamely. Did Geralt remember? The fog in the glen, when they’d crawled from their bedrolls into a morning made of clouds? If he did remember, did he remember it fondly? Jaskier had spent most of the day coming up with rhymes for fog and bugging Geralt for his opinions.

Another time he was a nuisance, probably.

Jaskier huddled in on himself, wrapping his worn traveling cloak tighter around his shoulders. The berries really hadn’t been enough, and he wondered if he should have some of the horrible traveler’s loaf from his pack. He decided to save it. If he could wait until lunch, or better yet dinner, the food would last longer. Less of a burden.

He wanted to play his lute, the sexy girl had been languishing for days now, but his fingers were too cold and stiff to play. And he’d annoy Geralt. Even worse, he might wake Ciri from her much-needed sleep.

He pulled his girl out anyway, not to play, but he carefully tended to the strings, plucking each quietly once or twice to check the tension, then he brought out his cloth and carefully waxed and polished the wood.

It wasn’t unusual for a good lute to last twenty years. But twenty years on the road through dust and mud and rain was different. Constant care and an oilskin cover were his saviors. It might not have been worth it for any other instrument, but this was Filavandrel’s lute. Somehow it seemed like the only instrument worthy of singing about the White Wolf.

He put it away.

He didn’t sing about the White Wolf much, since the mountain. He didn’t want to break his own heart again every night, and a low profile had been to his advantage.

Somehow though, it made him sad, and he thought of Professor Fredegar, the master of poetry at Oxenfurt, or he had been.

Fredegar had been an old man. He looked like he’d been made out of parchment and had somehow ingrown his clothes, like a turtle in a shell of thick woolen sweaters. He had been quiet and his hands shook, and Jaskier had liked him. He’d been kind and had wonderful stories to tell if a student came to his dusty office and sat with him a while.

There had always been something sad in the back of those pale eyes, though.

He’d been a great poet, still was, but in his prime he’d written the Saga of the Flame, a trilogy of epic poetry. The stories individually in the saga were well known about the Continent, but the whole tale...

The first part told of a young man, engaged to his blind ady love, but without money for marriage so he traveled to foreign places. Many smaller adventures were had and the first book was pretty jolly.

The second book was him seeking fame along with fortune, and forgetting his lady love for the sake of his pride, wanting someone grander than a blind village girl. Then he lost a battle of wits and was greatly humbled.

The third book found the man stumbling home, getting lost along the way. He returned to his village almost twenty years after he’d left, and his love had died, succumbing alone and uncared for to a return of the illness that had cost her her sight in her youth.

It was a true tragedy, and one that didn’t advertise itself as such until the last moment. It hooked a reader into emotions so deep they could drown. And there was a quality, something heavy in the story, that told Jaskier that at least some of it was real. He would look at Fredagar, sometimes, the way his eyes were so sad and faraway, and think about how the man had written a masterpiece and retired in barely middle age, rarely writing more than a sonnet here and there. There was a harp hung on the wall of pale wood, like that of the man in the saga, but Fredagar never touched it.

And then the man had died. He’d been one hundred and two, according to the chancellor of the university. He was buried by maybe a dozen faculty members and half as many students. And Jaskier had stood there, on that bright summer day at the graveside, and sworn that he wouldn’t live his life inside a university, to be buried and mourned by no family or friends besides some half-grateful students.

Yet, lately, it didn’t seem so bad.

He’d finished Her Sweet Kiss, and it was a true hit. He’d raised the reputation of Geralt, and witcher’s as a whole. Whatever happened, Jaskier’s name would be remembered forever. He could retire. Put Filavandrel’s lute in a glass case in a tiny office and teach ungrateful, hungover brats about meter for the rest of his life. It sounded nice, in a way. To settle down, and leave all thoughts of witchers and monsters and magic and wars behind him.

He couldn’t though. He’d been dragged into this and he’d have to see it through.

His stomach burbled unhappily and he glanced over at Geralt to see if he’d caught it. The witcher was staring at the ground, glowering like he would turn it into ash if he could.

Then he looked up and caught Jaskier’s gaze.

Jaskier was too slow to avoid pale gold irises, but looked away anyway. Geralt crossed to him from around the fire, boots crunching on leaves and frost.

Don’t break my heart again. Jaskier thought. I’m trying.

Geralt placed a hand like an anvil on Jaskier’s shoulder and he looked up.

“Ciri is glad you are here,” Geralt said. Then he continued to Yennefer’s tent to wake them up.

Ciri is glad, Jaskier could read between the lines. I will tolerate you for her sake. She is glad you are here. I am not.

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No! You dumb boy! Geralt means ‘I am very glad you are here but so is Ciri and I’m a grumpy fuck with the emotional intelligence of a mollusk!’

Anyway, here it is at last. Still gets more whumpy before it gets better.

#the witcher #geraskier #adhd Jaskier #ciri deserves two dads #and an awesome witch mom #and she'll get them #but not yet because nobody's good with their emotions

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

Text

Chasing Providence {Dimitrescu/OC} Pt 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Pairings: TBA, at minimum platonic House Dimitrescu/OC, with some wlw side characters (also original, but not the focus of the story) Rating: T for mild violence and possibly triggering content Warnings: A character briefly threatens suicide as a means of prolonging a conversation (i.e. saying "if you don't listen, I'll ___") Additionally, this contains spoilers for Resident Evil 8. Summary: Months after being infected with a mysterious virus, investigative journalist Avaskian Caldwell is left with no choice: Xe has to get help, one way or another, from whatever remains of the Umbrella Corporation could be trusted. Or, perhaps, from the very person who started it all... Along the way xe'll have to get along with vampires, fight off would be hunters, befriend a hoard of cultists, all while performing the duties of an everyday servant. There's nothing xe won't try as xe's forced to chase providence. Notes: While this chapter features a somewhat talkative Ava, xe's normally selectively mute, and will be for the entire rest of the story.

1: Blood Runs Thick

“This can’t be it. No fucking way, bruv, are you sure you got the address right?” The journalist asked, eyes narrowed as xe stared out into the distant hills. One hand held a phone, currently without any signal, while the other kept a tentative grip on the van’s door handle. To their side was the driver, a middle-aged man with relatively little patience. When he replied, it was in a language the journalist didn’t speak, but could clearly understand as a swirl of profanity. “Alright, alright, I get it. Not like I could afford to pay you to take me back, anyway… I’ll just, uh, be going then. Try to have a nice day, eh, you old chap?” With that said xe opened the door, hopping out rather eagerly. After tucking xer phone into xer pocket, xe quickly gathered xer bags from the trunk, half expecting the man to drive off before xe had a chance.

Surprisingly, he stayed all the way until the journalist gave two hard pats to the van’s side. Then he practically slammed the gas pedal, speeding off in a whirling cloud of dust and kicked up rocks, promptly sending xer into a coughing fit. Curse these feeble lungs, xe thought, scowling. Absent-mindedly xe put a hand to xer throat, silently checking if xer, ahem, ‘wounds’ were still covered. Once satisfied, xe turned to the long, winding path into the village. Was this truly where the ever-elusive “Miranda” could be found? What in the blazes of hell was a scientist like herself doing here, in a mostly empty stretch of Romania? The thought sent a rush of anxiety to the journalist’s chest, as xe wondered if this “Miranda” would even consider helping xer. Xe hoped that, at the least, xer unique case would get her attention.

In the end, it took xer twice as long as expected to reach the village proper. There were no signs along the path, nor signs of life, other than countless dead birds, hung like falling leaves from every tree. Once, a display this gnarly would have made bile rise up in xer throat. But these days? After everything xe had researched? This was no hell, not when compared to the bombed ruin that was Raccoon City. Yet xe still cut xer hand when hopping the barbed wire fence, as if once again a rookie, too desperate for the truth to see the proper world. Fresh blood dropped onto the snow, but xe allowed xerself no wince nor complaint, instead focused on the figures moving in the distance. Strangers. Nay, sources. Someone would know something about the mysterious Miranda, even if they didn’t realize it.

So the journalist made haste, approaching as casually as xe could, considering the heavy traveler’s bag on xer shoulders, and the sturdy cane xe walked with. It was the latter that caught people’s attention first, as it click click clicked against the stone path. Before long there were several pairs of eyes on the journalist, some of them bearing thinly veiled hostility, others filled with nervousness.

“Who are you?” A man growls, stepping in front of a woman (his daughter, based on similar features, age difference) as he does. One of his fingers jabs into xer chest, daring them to take another move, carrying an unspoken threat within it. For a few seconds xe simply smiles at the man. Somewhat amused, xe hoped that xer natural charm would win the day, despite a quick glance telling them that most of these strangers were armed.

“I’m a journalist-” xe started to say, until the others moved their hands towards their holsters- “or at least I was, once. But I come asking for assistance, kindness from my fellow humans,” xe said, gesturing widely with xer arms. This made the others present pause, though the journalist wasn’t immediately sure that xe hadn’t just misspoken. Romanian was not xer first language. Or xer second, come to think of it. Oddly enough, however, it had clicked rather quickly in xer brain, as if xe had always been meant to speak it. “You may call me Avaskian Caldwell. Or just Ava, or just Kian, or just Vas, depending on your mood. Ah, but that hardly matters. I am here… to find a woman. Someone I have heard much about, a, how do you say… ‘marvel’ of science? They tell me she is called ‘Miranda’. Have I come to the-” xe do not get to finish that sentence. Before xe can understand what’s happening, someone has grabbed xer by the throat, attempting to life xer into the air.

For once in xer life, xe’s glad for the ‘extra insulation’.

“Fuck you, outsider, you don’t deserve to taint her name with your foul tongue!” The man shouts, squeezing xer throat, urged on by the jeering crowd. A smarter person would have been rather concerned at that point. But the journalist- Ava, as xe said- was not known for xer cleverness. That did not, however, stop xer from exhibiting cleverness. Taking advantage of xer ridiculous arm joints (which may or may not be doubled, possibly merely weird as fuck), xe reached into xer bag, ignoring the crowd’s scared reaction, retrieving an evidence bag. Inside of it: several broken vials, each marked with a symbol of terror. This is not a place of honor the symbol screamed. To the villagers, it meant something else, something older. To Ava? It meant the prophet of death, it meant Umbrella.

“I come bearing the sign of your village. I come bearing the scars of your Goddess,” Ava proclaims, raising the bag into the air. As soon as xe does, xe is released, the man scrambling backwards. Others turn away, some leaving, a handful gathering to pray. ‘Twas an odd display, but one that Ava preferred over a public execution. Only one person dares to approach: A woman, likely mid thirties, with dark eyes and darker hair. There’s a clear caution in her movements, as if it was taking all of her courage to not flee. “Do you perhaps know how I may reach Miranda? I am in dire need of her knowledge.” At this, the woman flinches, though her gaze lingers on Ava’s throat. It’s then that the journalist realizes xer collar was undone, exposing xer strange, ever-bleeding wound. The stranger does not speak until xe has covered the deformity.

“One does not simply reach Mother Miranda. But there are ways to get her attention, to ask for a, hmm, blessing,” she explains. With a sigh of relief, Ava starts to celebrate, eager to find a cure for what ailed xer. But the woman wasn’t done speaking, and her next words cut a thick line through xer hope. “It may take a few weeks, maybe less, but we can ensure your prayers are heard. Mother Miranda always rewards the faithful. Even those who start out as outsiders. In the end, all are welcome here, if they keep the faith in our Mother.”

“No, no, that won’t do!” Ava snaps, far harsher than intended. The woman flinches again, and xe starts to pace back and forth, trying to release xer pent up energy. “There has to be another way. Faster, more direct. I don’t-... I might not have time to wait. Please, please, anything you can do to help, even if it’s just pointing me in the right direction…” A gulp, eyes shining with unshed tears, a quiver of the lower lip. Falsehoods alike, directed for an honest purpose. Miranda was xer only hope for information- and, perhaps, for salvation. But the latter had never been Ava’s true priority.

“There might be one way, but it is dangerous. You’d be more likely to die on the path than reach your goal, if I am honest. Yet… if there is anyone in all the village who can grant you the audience you seek, it would be one of the four lords. If you are certain-” the woman could only watch as Ava nodded furiously, silently begging- “so be it. Follow me, but do not say I did not warn you. I do not want your spirit coming to haunt me for my act of pity.”

—————————

“An unexpected guest? How… delightful. Do tell me why you even bothered to drag this miscreant before me, Cynthia?” Lady Alcina Dimitrescu asked, with a scowl, staring down at the fragile human in question. Of all the things she had expected to find, once her head servant called her, this was not one of them. An intruder would have been more likely. Perhaps even more fun, if Alcina felt like letting her daughters join in the resulting feast. But this ‘thing’ was hardly worth her time. They were short, although admittedly somewhat plump, with a scent that implied illness. For once, she could not pinpoint the exact disease by smell alone. Not that she cared, really. ‘Twas simply… interesting.

“Please, allow me to introduce myself. You may call me Avaskian Caldwell, and I come with an… offer. With mutual benefits, I assure you, Lady Dimitrescu,” the journalist answered, giving a deep bow. Despite xer manners, Alcina seemed unimpressed, even irritated by the display. Still, she gestured with her right hand, encouraging xer to get on with it. “I am in need of a meeting, specifically one with the much beloved, dearly respected Mother Miranda. In exchange, I offer two things: The sweat of my brow, and the blood in my veins.” Much to xer displeasure, Alcina replied with loud laughter before fixing xer with a hard stare.

“Pray tell, little thing, what makes you think I won’t simply take your blood now, hmm?” She muses, cackling again, ignoring the way her servant flinched at the sound. But Ava did not waiver, instead simply reaching into xer sleeve. Slowly xe pulled out something metallic, speaking firmly as xe did.

“For one, Mother Miranda would certainly dislike losing out on this opportunity,” xe started to say, unable to stop xerself from smirking. Then the knife fully exited xer sleeve, dancing in the light, before pressing against xer own throat. It was certainly a unique threat. Instantly Alcina rises to her feet, only pausing when she realizes that she wasn’t the one in danger. “Secondly, my blood is worth more if I am alive. You see, I have a wretched ‘condition’, which does a handful of lovely, lovely, life-threatening things to this poor vessel of mine. But someone as intelligent as yourself could find plenty of use for my so-called ‘illness’. If you give me a chance to explain, that is.” Though she does not sit back down, or even nod, it quickly becomes clear that Alcina did not intend to interrupt. Yet. “Grand, grand! I do appreciate it, my Lady. Now, let me just grab the research I brought with me…”

Never once lowering the knife from xer throat, Ava digs into xer bag, forced to briefly clip xer cane to xer belt. Then xe retrieves a closed manilla folder, carefully handing it to the giantess in front of xer. Wordlessly Alcina accepts the item, opening it to peruse its contents, only pausing to put on a pair of reading glasses. A minute of quiet passes before Ava continues xer explanation.

“I heal faster than anyone else on your staff, guaranteed. Hell, I cut my hand down in the village, on some damned wire, and the wound has already closed back up, good as new. That means, of course, that if someone were to let’s say… remove some of my blood, well, it wouldn’t take too long for me to get more, now would it? Obviously there has to be some biological counter, some form of payment for my ability. The rule of equivalent exchange, and all that, yes? As it stands… I eat an extra slice of bread a day. That’s it. Nothing bad enough to cancel out the boon of my blood. My… extensive reservoir of blood. Interesting, yes?” Ava says, still as charming as ever, despite the indescribable terror in xer chest. If there was one thing that xe had learned as a journalist, it was how to hide xer fear. Which was plenty useful, in the current situation, especially when Alcina flips a page to reveal the one downside to xer condition.

“Don’t tell me you came all this way to try and deceive me. Here I was, beginning to think something of you, and you hand me a sheet that says it clear as candlelight: Your blood is dirty. Infected. I won’t be drinking it anytime soon, nor would I even consider allowing it to be used for my family’s wine!” Alcina is essentially yelling at this point. But Ava only takes a step forward, smile present but trembling, and gestures for her to turn the page. With narrowed eyes she does, quickly reading through the notes. Once, then a pause, then once more. Finally she closes the folder, setting it down upon her desk. “Fascinating. You are indeed a… unique case. I cannot guarantee you a meeting with Mother Miranda, and even if I do, it will be because of your condition. She will use you, as is her divine right to do, likely without ever once considering attempting to cure you. But if you are determined to meet her, well,” Alcina leans in with her own grin, sending chills down Ava’s spine, “I will not stop you. Here’s hoping you manage to give me plenty of blood before you ‘expire’. Cynthia, show her to the servants’ quarters. I expect her to be working by tomorrow morning. Dismissed.”

Although Ava could not help but twitch at the Lady’s choice of pronouns, xe had expected this. Eventually xe would explain the indefinite nature of xer gender. Or perhaps xe was doomed to die a horrific, tragic death long before xe ever had the opportunity. Either way, xe could not help but feel a small sense of elation, pleased to have made some progress towards xer goal. Three steps forward and two steps back was still, cumulatively, a step forward. In time, xe would likely come to regret this series of choices. But who among us could say they held no regrets at all? And if, in the end, this storyteller came away with one hell of a story… wouldn’t that outweigh the regret? Even if Ava did not know it, xe would one day learn a valuable lesson from the strange family xe now worked for: Blood of the covenant is thicker than water of the womb. Oh, and what a lovely covenant it would be.

#avaskian caldwell #alcina dimitrescu #maiden cynthia #resident evil: village #resident evil oc #j has ocs #oh hoo hoo hoo #come and get your first real glimpse of ava #yes they talk in this one #you'll understand later

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fleckcmscott · 3 years

Text

After

Summary: Arthur is heartened to have Y/N back by his side. But moving forward isn't as simple as he'd daydreamed.

Warnings: Adult situations, Swearing

Words: 3,391

A/N: This request comes from @jokerownsmysoul! It's a continuation of Ch. 23 of Watch What Happens and takes off right after the last paragraph. Funnily enough, when Karen originally beta'd that chapter she said, "Where's their conversation? Oh, well, I guess it's implied." 😄 Special thanks to Domino, aka @thegirlwho, (who also wanted their conversation 😂) for sharing her point of view and helping me see things from a different perspective.

A good portion of my life is the exploding head emoji right now, so it's been a while since I've posted. However, I'm still here. Still writing. Still trying. Work on the new multi-chapter continues. If you've got any requests, let me know. Your patience, support, and you mean a lot to me. Thank you.

Nimble fingers twined through his loose, brown curls, a gentle tug as lips met and parted, met and parted. Her body surrounding that soft, most intimate part of him was visceral. Warm and wet. "I love you" fell from her mouth. Once, twice, more than the walls of his apartment had ever heard. He swallowed but was unable to murmur an appropriate reply. She came back, his mind affirmed. She came back.

Shit, I haven't mopped for a week.

Arthur braced himself on his knees and elbows to look down at her. The notched collar of Y/N's blouse had somehow remained uncrumpled. Strands of her hair fanned out messily over the beige, aged hexagons of the kitchen linoleum. Her tears had reduced to stains on her flushed cheeks. He brushed them away with the back of his knuckles. She'd said he hadn't hurt her, that she was happy. Both good things. If he could figure out the next step...

His eyes flitted back and forth between hers, brows pinched. Moving to kneel, he tucked himself back into his briefs, pulled his light blue pajama bottoms over his rear, then ran his hands along his thighs. "Have you had dinner?"

Buoyant laughter left her as she propped herself on her forearms. "I'm famished. Especially after that." She extended her hand and he accepted it gladly. When she started to pull herself up, he grabbed the other. Her kitten-heels slid the weave rug along the floor; it took some effort for her to get her footing. Once she stood, she tied the drawstring of his pants and adjusted her skirt. "Be right back," she said and scurried to the bathroom.

The thud of the door closing cleared the awe from head. He'd rather have kept it. Changes in mood were typical as of late. The bliss of her return was already twisting into dread. No longer consumed by the need to be inside her, his mind conjured questions, too many to brush off. He turned the knob of the toaster over. Studied the orange glow of its heating element. Had charity - or worse, pity - caused her return? Had distress afflicted her as deeply as it had him? Had she thought of him half as much as he'd thought of her?

Was she going to abandon him again?

He suddenly felt very silly and quite small for allowing himself a modicum of relief. Nothing had been clarified. By having a quickie on the floor after they'd barely exchanged a word, he'd set himself up to be hurt. The way he had when he'd kissed Helen, or when he'd considered Randall his friend, or when he'd believed, for one foolish minute, that Murray might be kind. He flinched against the fury simmering in his stomach. That same panic and anger from when Y/N had walked out of his apartment and, he'd been convinced, his life. He clutched the counter's curved edge so hard his fingertips went numb.

But then she curled herself into his side and squeezed him tight about the waist. Her blithe bearing was almost enough to quiet his tumult. "Anything I can help with?"

"No." He moved to dig through the freezer. Beans and franks with a brownie. English style fish 'n' chips. His mother's favorite, meatloaf. Only the teal packaging made them appealing. He grimaced at the meager offerings. He snatched one from the door, held it out with some trepidation. It was possible the gel-like gravy, slices of turkey roll, and drowned stuffing wouldn't put Y/N off. "Um, this was on sale. I bought a few."

"It's perfect." She accepted the carton and tore it open. "I heard a song on the radio yesterday that made me think of you."

"Oh yeah?" He closed the door of the toaster and set the timer with a flick of the wrist.

"The man was singing that his name was Carnival. That's your clown name, right?" She chuckled, dragged the black, wooden stool from under the counter, and perched on it. "It reminded me of the subway." A flirty pinch to his abdomen. "And that I still have to see one of your performances."

Arthur scoffed and averted his gaze, struggled to push through his anxiety and enjoy her. But he wasn't the type of man to let questions lie. When he'd gotten the courage to ask Y/N on a date, he'd taken the risk. When he'd read Penny's letter, he'd hopped on the first train to Wayne Manor. After the confrontation in Wayne Hall, he'd gone to Arkham and stolen that wretched file.

His curiosity tended to pick wounds that hadn't yet healed over.

The warmth of her hand met his back. "Thank you for giving me time."

The tenderness of her tone loosened the clench of his jaw. But he still couldn't bring himself to look at her. He'd done what she'd requested, because he'd feared mistakes would drive her further away, not because he'd wanted to or understood. He wondered if someone without a mental illness would have behaved differently. She'd pleaded with him to listen, kissed him goodbye, then left like it was nothing.

Whatever the case, her appreciation felt wrong. He didn't need gratitude. He needed answers. He inhaled sharply. "Why did you go?"

She traced the knobs of his spine. "I had to figure out the best way to be with you."

"Am I that hard to be with?" he bit out.

"Of course not. That's not what I said."

He gulped and released a ragged breath. "It broke my fucking-" He faltered when his voice cracked.

"Arthur, I didn't want to hurt you. I'm sorry." Her embrace was tight, a welcome pressure on his ribs despite the ache. Her palm slid up his sternum. "I was afraid to do more harm than good." He should have contradicted her, told her she was crazy if she believed loving him would damage him. But he stopped himself when she nuzzled his bicep. It was a while before she cleared her throat. "I love you more than I imagined possible." She giggled, then, and sniffed. "Which isn't bad for six weeks, Mr. Fleck."

Tears threatened as his eyelids fluttered. He managed to keep them at bay, covering her hand with his to distract himself. He pressed it tighter to him, until he thought her fingers might break through his chest. Finally, he met her stare. Found it full of love and what might have been joy at being together. In that moment, he knew nothing would ever separate his heart from hers.

~~~~~

"Christmas is coming up. Let me know what you'd like to do."

Arthur's slight nod was typical of their conversation this evening. Well, that wasn't quite fair. More like half of it. He'd been vacillating between bouts of confidence and timidity, with the latter tending to win out. He'd put his arm around her, examined the latest issue of TV Guide, and asked what she'd preferred to watch. She'd let him choose; he'd picked a three-hour variety show. Minutes later, he'd been squished into the corner of the sofa, legs neatly crossed with his hands clasped in his lap. She'd risen to refresh their ice teas, and he'd halted her with a kiss to her knuckles and his handsome grin. Upon her return, he'd focused on the floor and kept quiet. The changes were difficult to predict.

At least the periods of stillness made it easy for her to reflect, even as those reflections weren't entirely pleasant. She'd had faith in his ability to take care of himself and his judgment to reach out to her if he was in crisis. And while she had no regrets about taking five days to ensure she could sustain their relationship, she lamented the pain it had caused him. She'd detected it in his stiff posture in the kitchen. Seen it in his glistening eyes. Sensed it in his inconsistent reluctance to be touched.

It had been hard for her, too. The absence of their nightly calls, of shared laughter, of his presence had been keen. She would have returned to him without receiving his letter. But the ink on the page, with its occasional misspellings and earnest admissions ("I don't kno if I'm doing this right but I want to try. Maybe you want to try with me, to?") had prompted her to run to the subway before she'd taken off her coat. Confirmed that despite their differences, them being opposite in many ways, their hearts were the same.

He perked up slightly when the next performer came on, an old man from Whitefish, Montana and his paper mache ventriloquist dummy. Y/N's attention drifted to Arthur as he leaned forward onto his knees. Though the act was nothing special - terrible jokes, drinking water while the puppet talked, strumming a ukulele as it sang - his face crinkled in amusement. "They just have regular people on there," he said. "I haven't seen anyone from Gotham. I should try out."

Thankful he was focused on the show and not her, she pursed her lips. Had he forgotten how Murray had gone? Or Pogo's? Then again, he'd believed both had gone great. And she wanted him to succeed. To strive. To dream. His determination impressed her, made her proud. She searched for a truthful but kind answer. "Once you've got a set you're comfortable delivering, sure. Would you send a tape? I have a recorder you can borrow."

"I wrote a lot this week. Not many jokes but I've done some brainstorming." He flicked ash from his cigarette into the pink ashtray on the coffee table. Splayed his fingers and rubbed his palms together. The bob of his Adam's apple was faint in the dim, blue light. "Do you- Do you want to sleep over?" He turned to her.

Elated, she smiled widely and shifted to sit side-saddle. "I'd love to, but I didn't bring any clothes."

"Hold on." He rose from the couch and disappeared into the bedroom. After a minute, she followed to find him digging through a couple of cardboard boxes. Boxes filled with his mother's things, she realized. She'd have to follow-up for details, find out what had happened to ensure the transition would go as smoothly as possible. Though the relationship between him and Penny was complicated, change wouldn't be easy.

He held out a threadbare, light-blue, nylon nightdress with ruffled cap sleeves and a ribbon at the neckline. "Here."

Y/N cocked her head. The gown was exceedingly narrow, its seams stretched. If she had been inclined to wear it, it wouldn't have fit. Arthur's hopeful expression made it plain he did not see the oddity in offering his romantic partner his mother's nightwear. It was logical, she supposed. His years had been spent living hand to mouth. He didn't have any siblings. Hand-me-downs - a spare sweater here, a pair of socks there - would have come from Penny. A tad strange, to be sure. But poverty had a way of making the abnormal normal.

"Thanks," Y/N said. "But I'll be fine in my panties." At his pout, she closed the inches between them. "If you have a t-shirt, I'll take it." His brows lifted and he gave a toothy smile, comprised of surprise and conceit. The shirt he retrieved from the living room was plain and white. The lightly stained armpits didn't bother her, nor did its loose fit. It was part of his work outfit, he explained. And he claimed she looked cute in it.

Her sleep was restful, deep, better than it had been the last two weeks. Arthur being nearby and her certainty when she'd lain her head on his pillow had calmed her. She didn't think about the Wayne Foundation. She didn't worry about how to pursue a future with him. She didn't waste her energy being afraid of powerlessness. Warmth filled her, aided by contentment and cozy blankets.

When the mattress sunk beneath his weight, she didn't check the clock. Judging by the speed with which her drowsiness dissipated and the blackness of the room, it was likely around 4:00 AM. She'd gotten a solid five hours. With a slight stretch and mewl, she blinked up at him. Her elbow accidentally bumped his chest. "Aren't you tired?"

"No." He palmed her shoulder, caution palpable in every movement. Then his caress dragged down her upper arm, hovered over her breast.

She stroked his stubbled cheek. "What are you up to?"

"Making sure you're really here."

It was unclear if he was kidding. The extent of his imaginations or hallucinations - if that's what he experienced - weren't yet known to her. She recalled how he'd clutched her jacket, the way he'd fiddled with her wall calendar and coffee table when he'd come to her for help. Tactility oriented him, as it had her father before the final stages of his diagnosis. And, outside of acute episodes, Loving Someone with... had advised her to carry-on as always.

Laughing gently, she entwined their legs. "Where else would I be?"

"I don't know," he scoffed. He tucked his chin. Silence permeated the room, interrupted only by their exhalations. Eventually, he spoke, his rasp bashful and desperate. "Are you going to leave me again?"

"No." She pressed his hand to her breast, tried to soothe his tremble away. "I like it here."

She could hear his smile in the dark. He dipped his head to capture her lips. He kissed her and kissed her and kissed her again. She kissed him back until she ached with emptiness. Until she felt him hard against her hip.

"Y/N?" he breathed into her mouth.

Her pulse throbbed in her ears. "What?"

His forehead met hers and she shivered all over. "I wanna make you come."

~~~~~

Drip, drip, drip. A calming, predictable sound. The pungent smell of generic brew wafted to his nostrils, slightly burnt but familiar. Coffee. He was making his girlfriend coffee before she went to work. After they'd made love and snoozed until sunrise. After she'd admonished him for smoking in bed, then caressed his flaccid sex and teased him about his "secret freckle." (He'd covered his face in horror and delight and promised himself that one day he'd find a "secret" on her.) He hummed along to the radio, though he disliked the song, and whistled while he filled their cups. Once he'd added three sugars to his and the last of his milk to hers, he padded to the bath. He leaned on the doorframe, an imitation of nonchalance.

In her apparent rush to get to him, Y/N hadn't simply neglected to pack a change of clothing. She was swiping his stick of deodorant under her arms with haste. When she grabbed his comb and tried to tame her hair, he didn't mind. She declined his offer of Penny's eyeliner and mascara but that was fine. She didn't need them, anyway.

As she buttoned her pleated blouse, he giggled. He'd heard jokes about women going to work in identical outfits two days in a row. The innuendo had escaped him until now. A thrill went through him at finally getting the joke. He blushed. "You're dressed the same."

"I left Patricia a message that I'd be late. It won't surprise anyone." She accepted the proffered mug and took a long drink. A mischievous look as she arched a brow. "She'll want details."

Arthur's eyes widened and he rubbed his forehead. This would take getting used to.

She squeezed a line of toothpaste onto her index finger. "What are you doing today? Any gigs?"

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, braced his arm on the wall. "I have to call the hospital. Figure out where to send my mother." He was glad to begin the process of moving on, moving forward. To start building a life of his own. Freed from the woman who hadn't protected him. Paired with the woman who understood him most. Still. He was daunted.

After a few seconds of attempting to brush her teeth, Y/N rinsed her mouth and washed her hands. "The social worker should be able to help. There must be homes specializing in lobotomy patients, given how common they were. Actually..." She stepped to him and wrapped her arms around his middle. "I bet there's an advocacy group for the elderly in Gotham. I'll call around on my break. We can have lunch and review their recommendations."

The tightness in his chest prevented him from holding her gaze. His longings for kindness didn't make it any less peculiar. He hoped he would be able to accept it without skepticism soon, like a normal person. That he wouldn't wait for the other shoe to drop. He tried to fight his negative thoughts rather than give into them.

But he couldn't. Not yet. "Why are you doing this?" he mumbled.

She gave a small shrug, as if what she was about to say wasn't a miracle. "I love you. Why wouldn't I?" Before he could react, she walked to the front door and slipped on her heels. "Besides, we should plan this weekend. Shall We Dance is showing at the Monarch. We could catch it and have dinner at my place. And there's a doctor I found for you - when you're feeling up to it. We'll go over the particulars."

The offer to see the film, one he knew every number of, was an obvious attempt to butter him up for that discussion. It would work. "That sounds nice." He went to her side and took her coat off the wall mounted rack, guided her arms into the sleeves

"Arthur," she started, zipping her jacket. Her pretty eyes met his. "I wasn't going to end our relationship. I don't want you to fear that."

He winced and clutched his hands together, annoyed she had raised the subject again after the wonderful morning they'd shared. "I believe you now."

"Back home, I made mistakes. That's why I needed time." She shook her head. "The thought of repeating them with you..."

Mistakes? What kind of mistakes was she referring to? She'd said her divorce had been mutual. A big fight with her sister or mother hadn't been mentioned. She almost never talked about what had happened with her father, other than to name his diagnosis and state she'd gone on medication. She was a good woman. Whatever she had done, it couldn't be that terrible. Not half as bad as the notions that wormed their way into his brain like a broken record.

Then she continued. "I didn't know what to do then. But I think I do now. " She nuzzled his sideburn and carded her fingers through his hair. "If I see you walking towards a cliff, I won't follow. I'll pull you back before you get there."

He stared at her, blinking rapidly as he tried to hold himself together. Her words felt like the kind of fantasy he'd created to ease his misery. To try to convince himself he should exist another day. That he should stick around. Multiple hospitalizations had proven that hadn't always worked. But this was new. Real. Maybe that reality would allow him, for a little while, to be all right.

He cupped her face, drifted his thumbs over her cheeks. She leaned into him, into the kisses he placed on her brow, her nose, her mouth. His lips parted but all he could manage was a shaky exhale. The press of his face to hers.

She must have noticed he was overwhelmed. It frustrated him - he wanted to find a way to articulate himself. But her peck to his jaw, her hand covering his, made him feel safe. "Meet you at my office at one?"

"Mm-hmm." He nodded into her hair, not quite ready to let go.

Gently, she pulled away from his grasp, took her purse, and opened the door. She smiled. "Call if you need anything."

At that, she strode down the hall in the direction of the elevator. He stepped out and watched until she disappeared around the corridor's corner. He rested against the door and closed his eyes, wishing harder than he ever had before that every morning would be like this for the rest of his life.

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve, @ithinkimaperson, @sweet-nothings04, @stephieraptorr, @rommies, @fallenstarsabyss, @gruffle1, @octopus-plasma, @tsukiakarinobara, @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile, @another-day-in-chuckletown, @hhandley80, @jokerownsmysoul, @mrscarnival

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x ofc #arthur fleck x female reader #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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beneaththetangles · 3 years

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Review: The Stranger by the Shore (Movie)

Good Morning, Good Evening, Good Afternoon! Josh here! You know, I’ve been an anime fan for a little over 20 years now, and over the course of those 20+ years, I’ve watched shows or movies where I’ve said to myself, “I really don’t think I’m the target demographic for this one.” When I heard the premise of The Stranger by the Shore, I originally thought, “Meh, this just looks like one for specific fans of this genre. Probably not for me.” But this past Sunday, I saw Twitter go crazy over this movie, heaping prodigious praise for this rather short film, so I figured “Meh, why not? I need to watch something to wash the tastes of Girlfriend, Girlfriend out of my mouth” and checked it out.

Three viewings later, and I can honestly say that I was, in fact, exactly in the target audience for this one. Why? Because it’s about love. And after watching the farce of Girlfriend, Girlfriend, I kinda needed to be reminded what pure, genuine love looks like, and how this particular kind of love has many challenges both internal and external.

So what makes this movie so good? Let’s get into it. I’m Josh, the Cajun Samurai, and this is my review of The Stranger by the Shore...and interestingly enough, this is my very first review of an LGBTQ+ anime!

Okay guys, time to be a bit serious here. I know, it’s weird coming from me, but don’t worry, it won’t last long. I am duty-bound to let you guys know that this movie is rated “TV-14” on Funimation’s website, and honestly, were I in charge of the rating scale, I would probably rate it a little more mature as it does feature talk about sex and features characters engaging in intimacy. While nothing is seen, much is implied. If you decide to watch this film, but are put off by this sort of thing, it starts at 47:00, and ends at 49:30 if you’re streaming on Funimation’s website. Okay, end of disclaimer. Let’s get into it.

The Stranger By The Shore is based off a manga series by Kanna Kii. It begins with Shun, a writer living in Hokkaido with his aunt after running away from home. Why would he run away? Simple. Shun is gay and would not enter into an arranged marriage with his childhood friend. His parents were naturally upset over this revelation (How dare you not marry the bride we picked out for you?! And how dare you have other preferences for who you love?!) and so Shun hot-footed out of there to his aunt’s house to work on his book.

One night, Shun sees a young man making like Otis Redding and sitting on the dock of the bay watching the tide roll away. Shun’s aunt explains that the boy, named Mio, is now an orphan after having recently lost his mother (his father died earlier). Shun decides that he wants to try and befriend the boy, but Mio is having none of it, misinterpreting Shun’s advances as pity over the loss of his mother. However, this misunderstanding is quickly cleared up and Mio apologizes, saying that he was actually glad and didn’t mind if Shun was trying to flirt with him. After a day of unsuccessful fishing and a delightful dinner of curry, Mio reveals that he’s being sent to an orphanage on the mainland of Japan, and would only be able to communicate with Shun by phone once he arrives. Shun is pretty down about this.

Time passes and Shun’s cousin is moving out to live with her girlfriend, leaving an open spot at the house. Who could possibly fill it? Why, it’s Mio of course. Our boy is now 20 years old and is able to make his own decisions in life, including but not limited to love. Mio is fully ready to start up a relationship with Shun, not caring what society thinks, but Shun, having been on the receiving end of rumors and teasing about his sexuality, tries to get Mio to think twice about his decision, not wanting him to be ostracized as he was. This results in a couple awkward moments where Mio really wants to take their “relationship” to the next level, but Shun dragging his feet, just barely able to say “I love you” to Mio.

Oh, and if that weren’t enough, later on, Shun’s former fiancé, Sakuraku, comes to the village with some news: His father is gravely ill and wants to see his son before he punches his ticket on the Midnight Train to Georgia. Naturally, Shun is not too excited to see the parents who shunned him, nor is he excited to see the woman who he was once engaged to (albeit through an arrangement). Mio meanwhile is showing some signs of jealousy and a little insecurity at this new arrival. Is this new girl going to take Shun away from him? Will Shun actually go back to the girl that he left at the alter? Find out next time on DragonBall Z!

So yeah guys, I really and truly like this one. As I mentioned, I’ve watched it three times so far since it came out. The first time I watched it on my own just to see what all the commotion was about. Then I watched it a second time to take screencaps and offer up Twitter commentary as I typically do, and the third time…well…it was because the movie is just that freaking good.

It’s awesome just viewing a romance play out over time and watching two people deal with their respective issues to find one another. That’s part of what drew me to shows like Toradora, Kare Kano, Yuri on Ice, Wotakoi: Love is Hard for an Otaku, and Horimiya. Watching a romance from the very beginning and see it work itself through to its inevitable conclusion is beautiful, and that’s what you get with this one.

I also love the fact that this just isn’t a typical high school romance story. Yes, I know how ironic that sounds after the last sentence where I praised a bunch of high school based shows, but still… sometimes you just want a story with two mature adults instead of two crazy kids who are probably operating more on hormones than true love…even though there are times when Mio, young lad that he is, REALLY wants to make his relationship with Shun more physical, bless his heart.

Another thing that I really loved about this story are the differences in how Shun and Mio see the world with regard to their sexuality. While Shun sees their relationship through a somewhat wary lens, and doesn’t want Mio to be hurt like he was, Mio is much more of a free spirit, not allowing anyone or anything deny him from what he really wants. Part of me feels like the differences between these two are because of the times they grew up in. Shun is older than Mio, and no doubt grew up in a time where being LGBTQ+ was something to be scorned, mocked and bullied for. Mio, being a more modern and in some ways a more mature young man, understands what he’s in for and yet has no problem with it because he knows he loves Shun and in his mind, that’s all that matters.

One other thing that I find refreshing with this movie is that it doesn’t have any complex or mystical story lines. While I enjoy movies like Weathering With You and Your Name, sometimes those movies can just be too complex for their own good, adding mystical elements to a story that can at times clouds the waters. In fact, there are two moments where the characters seemingly pass out at different times during the movie after highly stressful situations, and I couldn’t help but think, “Okay, here comes the magical mystical stuff…these two are the reincarnation of some long lost, Feudal Era star crossed lovers that are bound by fate by the red string of something-or-other and they have to find the mystical key of the twilight or something…” But to my great surprise, these dorks were just TIRED. No magical journey, no mission they have to accomplish, just…tired. That is surprising. The Stranger by the Shore pretty much makes the characters the standout elements. These guys don’t have mystical powers, there’s no legend they have to figure out in order to save the world, there’s no time travel or dimension portals… it’s just a love story like any other.

Speaking of things that aren’t a big deal… I feel the need to address the elephant in the room. Yes, the intimate scene between Shun and Mio. Honestly… it’s a non-issue, as it should be. It’s two characters that are of age sharing an intimate moment with each other and they just so happen to be two males. It happens in loads of different anime and it’s not a big deal. Honestly, I found the way the moment was executed to be very realistic, gentle and tastefully done. If you avoid BL anime entirely, (and no judgement whatsoever–it’s not for everyone; watch whatever makes you happy) I suggest you check out our recent articles examining yuri and yaoi anime and see if those give you some food for thought, and maybe make you more likely to try out The Stranger by the Shore. Yup, I’m a true southern gentlemen–offering up Food for Thought. You always offer food to your company, thought or otherwise. Now go and get your grub on.

If I could find any faults with this movie, it’s probably that it’s too short and doesn’t give the characters enough developmental time. There’s just so much more I wanted to know about these adorable dorks: What was Shun’s life before the arranged marriage? How did he end up becoming a writer? What was Mio’s father like? How was Mio’s time in the orphanage? At just under an hour including credits, it feels like this movie could’ve explored so much more and expanded this beautiful world it created. This movie does a great job giving us endearing and lovable characters, but not enough time to fall even deeper in love with them.

Also, as a somewhat unrelated complaint, Funimation, please do the streaming anime community a favor. Please, please, PLEASE fix your video player! It’s just a mess! Sometimes the volume bar would be stuck on the screen long after I adjusted it, thereby ruining any screen captures I wanted to get. Also, please add closed captioning to the English dub video. It’s really a drag that the hearing impaired can’t enjoy the writing in the dub like everyone else, and it also sucks when bloggers like myself don’t have the text at the bottom of screen captures for context of a particular scene. You are partially owned by Sony Pictures… you can do better than this! But, I digress…

Speaking of Funimation, this movie was dubbed and released by Funimation Entertainment with director David Wald in the director’s chair. Honestly this was quite a shock to me as I would’ve expected Sentai Filmworks to put out a title like this, as they have never been shy to license and dub anime with LGBTQ+ themes. Yes, Funimation has put out a few here and there, the most famous being Yuri on Ice, but in my eyes, Sentai has always been THAT company to go to for movies and anime series like this. In fact, Hi Dive, Sentai’s streaming service, has an entire section devoted exclusively to LGBTQ+ anime and movies. Funimation? Not so much. But I digress.

Director Wald does an amazing job with this production, getting outstanding performances out of Josh Grelle (Shun) and Justin Briner (Mio). These two are just AMAZING in their roles, and captured these characters perfectly. Just try not to think about that when watching the English dub of Dr. Stone, as these two guys also play the bodyguard brothers Kinro and Ginro respectively. Speaking of Dr. Stone, listen closely and you’ll hear Senku Ishigami (Aaron Dismuke) as one of Shun’s classmates in a flashback.

So where does that leave us? Simple. This movie ranks a prodigious 9/10 for me. A must see. The Stranger by the Shore features a story that’s simple yet beautiful, adorably awkward and engaging characters, and acting that is just top notch in the English dub. The only thing that you may find a problem with is that there isn’t more of it. By the time the ending credits roll, you’ll want more of this one. Trust me.

Yes, I know that the story of two guys starting a romantic relationship might not be in everyone’s wheelhouse and the intimate moments might be something that gives you pause, but honestly, wherever you fall in the sexual identity debate or however you feel about it on a religious level, I can’t stress enough that you owe it to yourself to give this movie a chance. Because, at the end of the day, A has much to say about love and acceptance, things we ALL know a thing or two about and long for—gay, straight or otherwise.

=====

The Stranger by the Shore can be streamed through Funimation.

#Anime #Anime Reviews #Anime Movies #The Stranger by the Shore #Umiibe no Etranger #Yaoi #LGBTQ #Articles #Author: Josh #Author: The Cajun Samurai

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i-did-not-mean-to · 3 years

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Back to school - Chapter 3 - Kira

So, my first short AU has turned into a soap opera really fast...

Here's another Kira chapter...❤️👩🏻‍🏫

Fandom : The Hobbit

Characters : Oh everyone

Rating : Gen up to now

Warnings: Turns a bit dark, a tad of crying, histrionics and it's a dilettantish attempt at an AU

Kira watched them walk away, the new kid almost tripping over his own feet trying to catch up with that monstrosity of a teenager stomping away moodily.

She remembered vaguely what it had been like to be this young and to stumble upon a pretty face that hit one unawares like a right hook into the jaw; and, just as she had that thought, one of those faces appeared just above her.

“Miss Kira, I see you’re still hale.” That man had a voice like running rivers, cold and beautiful, Kira thought. As beautiful as her new colleague, Thranduil, was, she distrusted him instinctively. There seemed to be a lack of that kindness in him that she had come to expect in a teacher.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She snapped, exhausted from this first day of work and troubled by all the secrets flitting around and nipping at her skin. “You’ve got the trash class.” He shrugged, his perfectly toned shoulders heaving with disgusting elegance and poise. Why could he not be as ugly as his words? It would make disliking him so much easier!

His freaking son was in that class, Kira thought, for crying out loud. How could anyone be that facetious?

“I’d be ever so grateful if you could refrain from making remarks such as these.” Her tone could grow just as cold and sharp as his, she decided. “Oh, you’ve warmed up to them, have you?”

There was a flash of something behind the obvious mockery; for a moment, Kira thought she had seen a hint of surprised joy, but the spark was gone before she could hold on to it or commit it to memory.

“They have been very nice. Your son has a rare talent for drawing.” She replied, carefully. “He’s a nitwit.”

Bitterness, Kira could taste it on her tongue as if that man in front of her was literally spewing acid. He was disappointed, but whether it was himself or that sweet-tempered boy of his who caused him such distress, Kira could not yet tell.

“He is not and you’re an asshole for saying so.” The words were out of her mouth before she could bite them back.

Wonderful, she had met exactly 3 other adults this far and she had managed to insult one of them to their face within the first day of her arriving at her new post. Kira deserved an award for hasty reactions that would lead to trouble and pain.

One thick eyebrow lifted with agonising slowness until it reached its zenith in a perfectly calm face.

“Strong words.” A drawling snarl, devoid of bite or anger; he seemed rather amused by her outburst that coloured her cheeks a flaming red and made her eyes shine with a ferocious fire. Kira liked to think that she looked intimidating or fierce, but she was old enough to be aware that she actually resembled a young girl running a fever when she got angry.

His eyes shifted into something that was now definitely mournful as he told her that there were many things she didn’t know and, with a sharp sadness, he added: “Maybe, someone with a soft heart like yours should not have come here.”

Bristling, she got up and pushed past him into the school building.

Who was he to tell her where she was to go or not? He knew nothing about her either, or about the things she had done and seen in her life. A soft heart, pfff, indeed.

Making her way through the halls and corridors, and getting turned around only twice, she finally entered the small administration office where a handsome woman with long, black hair was clacking away on her keyboard.

“I am…I have…I am new here and I’d like to see the files of the class I’ve been given.” Kira announced, rather badly, and the woman looked up with a disinterested face. “Which class would that be?”

Damn, she didn’t even know the name of the class, for she was sure that DD was not the official code. “Mister Gandalf’s class? I’ve taken over for Mister Smaug.” She mumbled, hoping that the lady would know which class she was talking about without her having to confess that she was a terrible teacher who had not done a rollcall or learned what the official denomination of her class was.

“You poor dear, how much time do you have?” The woman gave a wry chuckle. “Time?” Kira cocked her head.

“Go through to the library, I’ll bring you the files.” She patted Kira’s hand, lying cramped on the little counter before her. Those treacherous hands, she thought, always clenching without her knowledge, and betraying her inner turmoil.

As she sat in a corner of the library, she thought back on her first day: her colleague was like an ice-king from a fairy tale, cold and beautiful, and her class turned out to be a bunch of grumpy misfits.

Well no, only the two tall boys, the other ones seemed agreeable enough, but Kira was not used to scowling teenagers. It made her feel ill at ease and unwelcome; everything in this place made her feel unwelcome and she had half a mind to go home again and call it a day.

She had tried, but there was no place for her, not here, not anywhere else.

The door opened and the woman from before shoved a document cart piled high with folders in.

“You’re new to the town too, aren’t you?” The woman nodded slowly when Kira admitted that she was. “You and the curly boy, you don’t even know what mess you’ve gotten yourself into.”

Making a non-committal gesture, Kira encouraged her to go on. “You’ve met Dwalin and Thorin, I expect. They’re the local troublemakers. Hmmmm…” The woman pulled out a chair from under a deserted table and leant against it as if she couldn’t bear to sit down for this story.

“Their family, Thorin’s parents to be exact, they had a business. Beautiful it was. It burned down…some say, Smaug, the former teacher was behind it. We don’t know. There was some point of contention between them, but…”

“What about Thranduil?” Kira asked, the question falling from her numb lips.

“Oh…he…it was a beautiful business as I said and there have been important possessions of his lost in the fire. It…it is a time ago now. Thorin’s father has disappeared, you know, and Thranduil thinks he might have taken off with the most valuable parts. I don’t know if that’s true.”

The woman bit her lip, she knew she was gossiping, but she obviously thought that Kira had a right to know those things. Probably, she wanted to chase her away, but with every word, Kira’s faltering resoluteness firmed up again.

“Who is taking care of them? They’re kids.” Kira cried out, horrified by what she was hearing.

“Older cousins; they’re a strange clan. Secretive. Weird. Hostile. Thorin should have graduated, but he sticks around for his sister. Thranduil is her headteacher.” The woman sighed heavily. “We’re all one tangle of resentment and hate here.”

A fire, Kira thought, a future gone up in flames, a legacy fallen to ashes.

“What kind of person was this Smaug?” She then prodded on, curious about her predecessor.

“Smaug? Sly, charming, wickedly smart, very cunning…and dark. Oh, Kira, can I call you Kira? Leave girl, there is nothing here for you. Smaug and Thranduil? They survived here because their hearts have turned to stone a long time ago. The kids will hurt you; destruction is all they know.” She took a deep breath.

“Those children were raised on hatred, they absorbed distrust at their mother’s tit, they suckled on hostility. They will take everything from you if you let them.” The woman tapped the folders on the cart.

“I’m telling you, you don’t need to know. Leave this place. There’s too much death around here.”

Everything in Kira revolted.

“What made people that hard and bitter?” She asked, breathless with shock and pity.

“Loss. If you lose someone you love, you seek for culprits and there are more than enough potential candidates around here.”

Kira thought of young Bilbo’s flush, of Thorin’s shy smile and Legolas’ beautiful drawing, and grabbed the first one of the folders resolutely. “I have nothing to lose.” She whispered and plunged into the heart-breaking life story of one Tauriel; a girl who had impressed her with zealous interest and brave kindness.

The woman left and soon after, the door to the library was shoved open again and Gandalf strolled in, his grey wool cardigan stained with chalk and his beard hiding a sad smile.

“You’ve taken an interest in them, I see.” He said in a low voice, but his presence startled Kira so much that she uttered a frightened yelp. “Yes, yes, I wanted to know what all this talk of hate was about.”

Kira set aside the folder she had been browsing. “You have been crying.” Gandalf said softly, handing her a handkerchief and sitting down on the discarded chair the administrator had left pulled out.

She sniffed; she had just found out that the sweet-tempered blonde boy, son of the imperious colleague with the amazingly beautiful eyes, was semi-orphaned. His report cards said he was dumb, slow to understand and illiterate, but Kira had seen him read. All the notes about him betrayed a sense of impatience and exasperation that must have heightened the pressure on the poor kid, she thought. It was hard enough to be another teacher’s son, did people have to expect so much of a boy his age?

“Come, I’ll invite you to a milkshake, Miss Kira.” Gandalf extended his hand with the same natural friendliness as he had when handing her a handkerchief earlier. “Ah, you’ve kept the worst one for last.” He tapped on the thick folder bearing Thorin’s name.

Kira didn’t want to admit it, but she was frightened. The woman had been partly right and there was a lot of darkness in this town; shady things had happened, and Kira was unable to comprehend how people could burden mere children with past grievances they had not been a part of.

“There’s a little shop just down the main road.” Gandalf was chattering gently, shoving the last file into her satchel, and steering her out of the gloomy library carefully. “It will do you good to get out of this building.”

When she saw the blinking lights, her eyes burned and she wondered how long she had been sitting in the dark library, crying helplessly over the fate of children she had only met today.

“Miss Kira!” A honey-coloured mop of hair appeared in her blurry field of vision, and she was tempted to sling her arms around Bilbo. “Bilbo…” She sighed. “Oh, have you been crying?” Bilbo looked up, alarmed and worried.

“I’m okay, kiddo, it’s all fine.” She lied, she knew it and so did Bilbo.

“Oh, that girl over there, that’s Thorin’s sister.” Gandalf whispered into her ear. Kira looked up only to see the beautiful creature that had been with mopey Dwalin before class. She should have known, Kira thought, now that she saw them together, it was as clear as day that they were related.

“God, they’re such charming children.” Kira sighed under her breath. “Isn’t he just?” Bilbo sighed along, blushing a dark pink under Kira’s gaze that had snapped back to him. Kira didn’t know what this town’s ideas and beliefs were on that kind of crush; she had not been here long enough to gauge how people reacted to single women and same-sex couples, but it was clear that Bilbo himself felt terrible about his own words.

Kira wondered if there was no hairdresser in town, all the haircuts she had seen this far were exceptionally long and flowy, or awful like Ori’s, and the fact that half of all the people she had met this far were cramped into the small ice-cream shop reminded her of the woman’s words. They really were all packed one on top of another, all the time, no wonder there were frictions and animosities.

“Hello, are you the new teacher?” Kira snapped out of her reverie to be confronted with the fresh face of a young girl who looked up at her expectantly. “You sure are pretty.” She went on, which made Kira blush.

“I am Dís, I’ll introduce myself, old Thrandy interrupted me before and…my brother is useless.” She had the most dazzling smile, small dimples to either side of her generous mouth that was so unlike the grim line of her brother’s and eyes like a summer sky. She was the first happy person she had met, Kira realised, and her eyes flew to Thorin who observed them with meticulous sharpness.

His baby sister, of course, he’d throttle me on the spot if I threatened the girl in any way.

“I am…the new teacher. I’m not so sure about the pretty part.” Kira murmured, unsure how to proceed with Bilbo and the girl both now staring up at her as if she owed them some kind of explanation or answer to a question nobody had asked.

“Was Thorin very gruesome?” Dís asked with a mix of morbid pleasure and honest worry. Kira saw Bilbo flinch; so this was how they would handle things, she thought, Bilbo and her would be more or less mockingly warned so as to counteract every single potential disappointment…or expectation.

Squaring her shoulders, Kira lifted her chin and replied: “No, I expect great things of the young man.”

An eerie silence fell over the group and Kira could feel Gandalf stiffen just behind her; he was hovering in the door as if to keep her from retreating. Little did he know that Kira usually met her fears head-on, she would not back out of a shop because she happened upon a group of students; not even when it was obvious that she had been crying.

“Nothing ever happens here, so tell me, what did you think of old Thrandy? He was certainly flushed and a little grumpier than usual…” Dís had an infectious smile, Kira thought as she felt her own lips being pulled up by an unseen and unfathomable force. “Mister Thranduil was…very courteous.” She replied weakly, remembering with painful clarity how she had called him an asshole in the least civil display of discontentment possible, short of shoving him outright.

The idea of shoving someone that tall and strong made her giggle under her breath.

“He doesn’t like us much.” Dís said it off-handedly, but Kira had been a teacher for too long not to notice the tiny quiver that made her smile blur for a second. Once again, Kira wanted to protest and assuage the girl’s pain, but what did she really know? She had only arrived in this clusterfuck of a town.

“Do you think…could you like us? Please?” Her huge eyes shone like headlights. She looked so much like her brother, only softer, more open, and much more vulnerable. It was the age, Kira thought, it was the fact that he had always held his hand over her and, right now, he bulldozed towards them.

“Dís…leave the woman alone.” He gave her an apologetic smile; begging for affection was beneath his dignity apparently, so Kira turned her attention back to the girl and sighed: “I’m doing my utter best.”

“We’re not so bad, really. Don’t…don’t believe what people say.” She tapped her finger against the folder sticking out of Kira’s satchel. Her brother’s name was clearly visible and, unlike Kira, Dís seemed to know exactly what lay between the faded grey layers of cardboard.

“Dís, that is enough. Leave her be.” Thorin repeated, trying to pry his sister away. “Don’t mind her.” He said to Kira.

“Let go of me, you stupid oaf. How many times have you cornered old Thrandy in the hallway on my behalf? Can I not, for once, speak up for you?” Her eyes were flaming with blue fire now, reminding Kira of a copper flame.

“Don’t…don’t believe what people say, I can only ask you to make up your own mind. Both of you…” Dís then addressed both Bilbo and Kira who exchanged a puzzled look. “I don’t know anything about the idle tittle-tattle of the town.” Bilbo puffed up his chest and made a small gesture of dismissal.

Kira, on the other hand, did not know what to say. As a professional, she was bound to put at least some faith in the words of her colleagues and her predecessor; she knew teenagers to be manipulative, potentially mean-spirited, and profoundly selfish beings. It would have been more careful to heed the warnings others had given her.

“So…about your milkshake?” Gandalf prompted her from behind and Kira thought that she needed something stronger than a milkshake tonight to get settled into bed, but she would not get shit-faced in front of the students.

“The strawberry one is good.” Bilbo offered. Her eyes slid over the sign hanging on the wall.

“Chocolate-Mint?” She turned to Gandalf. “Unusual.” He commented. “Nobody likes that much.” He made a face.

“I am not everybody else…and I do.” Kira replied firmly and followed the man to the counter to escape the students.

The whole town seemed strangely informal to her and yet, there were so many things she could not quite understand, as if there was a deeper, darker truth hidden behind every brazen interaction.

“I see Thorin has taken a shine to the new kid.” Gandalf commented in a low voice when he returned with their drinks to the little booth Kira had taken in the meantime, far away from the kids, in a quiet corner. “At this time, he’s usually in the little hardware shop his family keeps.”

Kira could hear that Gandalf was trying to tell her something, but her head was still fuzzy with second-hand pain and first-rate confusion. “You’ll fit right in with us, I think.” Gandalf went on, nodding at her bare hands. No rings. For a woman her age, it was rare, and as her colleague and superior, he of course knew that she had come here alone.

No husband. No children. No emergency contact either.

“Young Bilbo is an orphan.” He murmured on. “There are too many orphans in this town.” Kira replied tonelessly.

“It wasn’t always like that…It won’t be like that forever.” Gandalf said and she had to believe in the faith vibrating strong in his voice. Of course, it wouldn’t stay like that, Kira thought, they would grow up and if this place was not right for them, they would find another one.

She drank her milkshake slowly, eager and reticent at the same time to take a look at that last file in her satchel. Her mind was full of what other people had told her: her colleagues, the administrator, that girl…

When she dared glance over, she saw Bilbo laughing at something Dís had said, and it seemed like the ghost of a smile danced on Thorin’s face. God, there were so many open scowls and just as many aborted smiles in this town.

“Are they…” Kira started to voice her concerns, but relapsed into silence, it was none of her business.

“Are they what, dear? Allowed to flirt? I’d hope so, these things come easier to the younger generation.” Gandalf tapped the side of his nose as if he knew that she was hopeless in the romantic department.

“I don’t need to know.” She said hastily, almost tipping over her empty glass as she got up and grabbed her satchel.

“Kira? You will soon learn that there is no escaping “knowing” in this town. I am so sorry, but you’ll eventually have to choose a side. Will you take the easy path?”

She froze.

“Here, take this. I’ll see you at work. Tomorrow.” He handed her yet another handkerchief, a beautiful, delicate thing that had no business being in the possession of a slightly scatter-brained, decidedly masculine headteacher.

“I bought it in the emporium that once was.” Gandalf said with a sad smile. “Before the fire.” Kira answered tonelessly.

“Thranduil said that someone with my soft heart should not be here.” She felt like telling on the colleague, but the recollection of his words cut deep, and she needed some kind of reassurance.

“Thranduil believes softness to be weakness. Do you have a strong heart, Kira?”

She did not know how to answer that question; it was novel to her, nobody had ever asked her anything remotely as confusing and irrelevant. She had never had any medical problems of the cardiovascular variety, but she doubted that this was the meaning he had been trying to convey.

“We’ll find out soon enough.” He grinned and when the door swung open, he sat back and waited.

“Miss Kira.” Already, she recognised the shy, quiet quality of the voice that reminded her of those wispy curtains her aunt Imelda used to have in her living room and that had ended up torn to shreds by her vicious Siamese cats.

“Legolas.” She turned around, satchel in hand, only to find her face almost pressed into the perfectly starched button-down of someone who has definitely not the nearly translucent boy.

“Mister…” – “If you can call me asshole, you can call me Thranduil.” His voice cut like a well-honed blade, slicing easily and elegantly through her defences…No jagged edges, no serrated indentations…Acid running like water and leaving nothing but burning pain behind.

She was tempted to call him asshole again, but she clenched her teeth before bowing her head slowly.

All the kids eyes were glued to her now; she could feel the prickling heat of their gaze on her neck. “Good evening. I’m on my way home.” She said courteously and tried to push past them.

“Legolas, go sit with your classmates, I’ll walk your teacher home.” Thranduil declared with icy determination.

“Why? What danger could lurk in the shadows for me when clearly, everyone is here?” Kira snapped.

“No, he’s right. It is not safe.” She had not noticed that the students had come up behind her, but she could hear that it pained Thorin to the core of his heart to admit that the hated teacher was, for once, not completely wrong.

“Stay with your classmates, Legolas, I will walk Miss Kira home.” Thranduil repeated and Legolas shuffled his feet for a moment before being pulled away by Bilbo. He didn’t get along with his classmates, Kira knew, but the fact that Thorin had not objected, told her that they all agreed to this plan.

Kira could not fathom what peril could hide in this sleepy, little town other than being smitten by a lightning bolt made of pure contempt and hatred, but when Thranduil held the door open for her, she moved outside readily enough.

For a while, they walked in resentful silence, each one thinking about the angry words that had been uttered between them. “I took…” She started, but he waved her words aside. “I know where you live.”

Of course, he knew. Everyone knew. Maybe, she’d be murdered in her sleep by the cloud of ominous darkness hovering over every square inch of this godforsaken place.

“Lock your door and say your prayers.” He mumbled, looking tired all of a sudden, as if the polish had worn away and washed off and all that was left was a middle-aged man who was alone in the world with a child he could not understand and a bunch of neighbours he didn’t like.

“If you see a fiery red sports car…” he started and waved her past her own building and towards a small corner shop.

“If ever anything feels amiss, you call Gandalf, the school, me…and you come here.” He went on insistently.

“Thranduil.” Another man stepped out, his eyes cautious and guarded as they fell on her tall companion. “Balin, this is Miss Kira. She’s your boys’ new teacher.”

The older cousin then, Kira thought, barely older. Where were the women in this town? Where were the mothers?

“It was mighty good of you to take her home.” Balin nodded slowly, giving Kira an appraising look.

“Now, look here lass, if anything happens, you come here.” – “What should happen?” Kira wanted to laugh, but she remembered: there had been a terrible fire, a man had disappeared, a car had been damaged, mothers had been lost. She was an outsider, and she knew nothing of the things that haunted these people.

“If he comes back.” Balin just replied and Kira was surprised at the grave nod Thranduil gave as a reply.

“Who? Smaug? What kind of guardians are you if you let someone that dangerous be alone with your little ones?” Kira exploded. “Little ones? Have you seen Thorin and Dwalin? They’re hardly little ones.” Balin laughed heartily.

“He held sway, let’s put it like that, and we could not dislodge him against his will.” Thranduil explained suavely.

“Not that you’ve tried really hard.” Balin mumbled into his beard.

“He was a fucking menace; he’s done terrible harm to those children!” Kira could not fathom how they could be so calm about that. “Aye, that’s a grief we all have to live with. I don’t think he’d come back, but if he does…well, we’ll know how to deal with him.” Balin said with pride in his voice.

“I’d rather let him tear me limb from limb than expose any of my students to that monster ever again!” Kira could feel the tears of anger and helpless indignation threaten to dash her brittle voice to pieces.

“You’re a fiery one, lass, I’ll give you that. Maybe, we all need more of this around here.” Balin chuckled and gave her a card. “Oi, Miss Kira, everything alright?” Dwalin came out, his hands covered in dark dust and his face glistening with sweat.

“Yes, I am fine. Suffocating on so much testosterone, but I am alright. One would think some evil power would send ghouls and dragons after me as soon as I step out alone.” She chuckled under her breath.

“Don’t wander around alone too much. I trust Thorin and Dís have taken care of the new kid?” Dwalin nodded when Kira’s eyes widened. They were being herded like sheep. With a tiny nod of the head, Dwalin and, what Kira surmised must have been his older brother, returned to their shop.

“They’re distasteful people, but they can protect you. We’re just up there.” Thranduil accompanied her back to her own suite of flats, pointing at a small rise where a beautiful white mansion peeked out from a patch of dark trees.

“Don’t call them distasteful.” Kira grumbled. “Lady, you call people assholes.” He reminded her.

“I’ll never live that one down.” She said through gritted teeth. “No, you won’t. We have a long memory when it comes to grievances and offenses.” It didn’t sound like a threat, there was no anger or even hurt in his voice; he was merely stating facts.

Rolling her eyes at him, she jangled her keys and made her way into the building. All of this was completely ludicrous, but she locked her door twice and fastened the bolt as well before taking off her shoes and cuddling up on the small sofa.

Kira wished she had someone to talk to, someone who would be interested in her first day at work and who would laugh and groan with her about that absurdly handsome, stuck-up, judgemental, overly sensitive colleague of hers whose eyes made her wish for summer and picnics outside.

Also, she yearned for someone to hold her as she opened the thick file and leafed through records of detentions and disciplinary procedures until she came to a clear line in Thorin’s academic career: he had been a good student, wild and impatient but also diligent and gifted, up to a certain point and only after that had he turned into a teacher’s nightmare.

Kira rubbed her eyes, she could barely believe that those words, “dangerous”, “vicious”, “devious”, “insane”, should be applied to a man that young. Thinking back, she saw a hunched-over youth, uncomfortable in his skin, wary, and definitely traumatised; she had never had the feeling that he had been threatening her in any way though.

One thing was for sure, Mister Smaug had hated the kid and he had not missed a single opportunity to make his life miserable, going as far as scribbling defamatory notes about Thorin’s family into the official records.

Piecing together what she could glimpse by reading between the lines, the family had built an emporium, but the grandfather’s megalomania had attracted the wrong kind of attention, and everything had literally gone up in flames. The father had disappeared, leaving the son to bear the burden of a reputation of being a greedy, thieving beggar – born and bred.

Nobody could see her now, so Kira lay down her head and cried.

It had been only one day, and already, she had no idea what to do and how to go on in this quagmire of secrets and lies.

Her mind wandered back to those fresh faces, to the willingness of Tauriel and Ori to work, to Bilbo’s calling out to her to give her opinion, to Legolas’ pride over a drawing, to Thorin’s and Dwalin’s surprising protectiveness, and she knew that even if Smaug came back and set her ravishing asshole of a colleague on fire in front of her eyes, what really mattered were the children. She would try her best to make a difference…at least for those who might change the fate of the world…in time.

#au #hobbit #fanfiction #thranduil is an ass #dís is the best #enemies to lovers?#gandalf has a lot of handkerchiefs #smaug is a monster #balin is gold

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diddlesanddoodles · 4 years

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DUMPLING ch 50

“Wait! You’re Bumbling Bertol?” Jae exclaimed dubiously, in far too loud a voice. A moment of clarity seemed to overtake him, and he cleared his throat. “I mean… uh. Sorry. Bertol. So, uh… you’re Bertol then, huh?”

The giant did not appear to take any real offense at the mocking moniker and merely regarded Jae with an easy stare.

“I used to be. That name… well, I cannot say I did not earn it,” he explained with a resigned sigh. An air of wistful regret came over him as he stared passed them. “I was a pathetic creature in my younger days. I went from hamlet to hamlet, village to village, selling my talents for whatever coin or bauble they saw fit to give me. I sold predictions, but nothing too grand. Not in those days, at least. Ordinary folks only wish to know ordinary things.”

He plucked up three apples and tossed them into his mouth. “The housewife wants to know if she’ll bear a son, the poor farmer wishes to know if the year’s crop will be bountiful, and the young maid aches to know the name of the man whom she will wed.” He sighed in frustration and his expression became bitter.

“Simple questions that should have simple answers. But life is far more complicated and twice as cruel. The housewife will have her son, but he will die of pneumonia at too young an age. The farmer’s harvest will be plentiful, but it will be his last before a heart attack strikes him down. The young maid learns the name of her beloved only to find he is fifteen years her senior and a foul drunkard.” Bertol took up another apple and rolled it idly between his fingers. “Such dire predictions. They grind against your soul after so long. I grew weary of seeing the doom ahead of so many people. So I took solace in herbal concoctions and alcohol spirits. I became the man they called Bumbling Bertol. Truthfully, I don’t recall much of those days. I don’t remember a good many of the predictions now credited to my name. Most of them are silly anyway.”

“How did you meet Ellis?” Haiyer asked, his eyes alight with intrigue. The little boy had taken up a spot near Bertol’s knee and was listening with rapt attention, despite the morose subject matter.

“It shames me to say that I don’t quite remember how or where I met her,” he admitted, shifting in his seat and running a hand down his beard. “I was drunk. I know that much. And that she watched over me while I was passed out in a gutter somewhere. She claims that in my wretched inebriated state I called her beautiful and that was why she took pity on me. But I know that is a lie. Fairies are notoriously voyeuristic and mischievous. And I suppose in that state I was quite a humorous thing to behold. In all truthfulness, she was probably bored and looking for some fun. But after I had sobered up, she still stayed with me. She would watch me as I made my predictions, drank myself stupid afterwards, and spent the following hours or days wandering around like fool.”

As he spoke of his fairy companion, Bertol’s dour expression softened and a smile came to his lips. He turned to look down at Haiyer. “She watched over me. Much in the way she looks after you, little one.”

He gestured to the little boy. “She did that for me. Then she began to teach me things about magic, things I never knew. About how my gift of foresight could be harnessed to see beyond merely the terrible. My predictions began to change the more I learned from her. I began to see the good and less and less of the bad. The promise of new horizons stretched on before me and I needed the bottle less and less. For a small amount of time, I was quite content.”

“So then,” Jae pressed, biting into his apple, “where does the Gold Prophecy come into play?”

Nenani ran her fingers across one of her apples as her heart raced. She was all too familiar with the Gold Prophecy, and while many of the people who spoke of it did so with a mockingly or dismissively, it always left her feeling ill. Those were the words that echoed in her dreams, that were spoken by centuries-dead mages deep within the Vhasshalan catacombs, and most worrying of all they were the very words Aidus spoke the day she first met him face to face.

Those words were a curse.

At Jae’s question, all warmth left Bertol’s face. His expression soured and the giant snorted derisively. “That damn prophecy. It has caused me nothing but misfortune from the day those accursed words left my lips.”

“Do you…” Nenani began, feeling an uneasiness in her belly. Her mind drifted to the catacombs within the Vhasshalan keep and to the skeleton mage. She rested a hand against the fire opal on her belt. “What is it really about? The prophecy?”

“Who knows,” he grunted. “I speak the words as they come to me. I am not omnipotent.”

“Ah, come on!” Jae whined, clearly dissatisfied with his answer. “That’s bullshit! It’s gotta be about someone.”

Bertol glared at the young man and leaned towards him.

“And you think it is about the King do you?” he asked with a sneer.

“Well, a lot of people do,” Jae replied defensively. Meeting Bertol’s eye, he steeled himself and nodded firmly. “So yes. I do think it’s about Warren.”

Bertol glare darkened. “You are hardly the first to ask me the meaning of those words or to believe them to be about one person or another. Many came to me to ask if those words foretold their rise to power. And like you, they did not care for my answer. Some tried to force me to declare that it was always about them and, when I would not, I would be beaten or imprisoned.” A sly grin crossed his face. “So Ellis taught me a useful trick for escaping such circumstances and I am not ashamed to say I have become quite good at it. I became a wanted man.”

He sat back up and gave a half shrug. “And so we went into hiding. I became something of a hermit and avoided people at all cost. I found life in the mountains away from people quite suited me. That was until the war spoiled everything.”

“The war?” Haiyer asked.

“We were able to distance ourselves from the worst of it,” Bertol continued. “Until one day we came upon the aftermath of a battle along the Deahil Nenani river.” His eyes drifted to Nenani and seemed to size her up. “The very river you’re named for.”

“Riftside,” Jae supplied. “That was the battle of Riftside. Warren’s brother died there. Prince Mourin.”

Bertol grunted as he waved the anecdote away. “A corpse with a crown on its head is still a corpse, boy. And believe me, there were many of them. Human and Vhasshalan alike. Further down river from the battle’s center is where Ellis found him, a Silvaaran mage. He was gravely injured, but alive.” Bertol paused and for several long moments did not say a word. He appeared to Nenani as though he were replaying the events in his mind and he did not look pleased at all. “Ellis convinced me that we should save him. So I pulled the man from the water and tried to dress his wounds as best I was able. Ellis was dissatisfied with my quality of care and decided to use her stone.”

“Stone?” Nenani asked. “What kind of stone?”

“A stone of power, a ruby. It was a dear treasure to her and not a gift she so easily bestowed upon others. She used it to heal him.”

“Stones of power can do that?” Nenani asked, looking down at her opal.

“Not the stone itself,” Bertol replied, reaching into his bag and pulling out a red river rock. He turned it idly through his fingers. “The magic infused within is the healing catalyst as the stone is merely a vessel. Fae magic is wild and can be amazingly powerful when wielded in the proper way. Horrendously destructive if misused.” He tossed the stone into the air and caught it with his other hand. “The mage was healed and saved and he was very grateful of course. But as I was a giant, I made him nervous. I attempted to calm his fears and, not much to my surprise, he had heard of me. And he had heard my prophecies., including the one that would become known as the Gold Prophecy. Like so many before, he was very interested in that one. A little too interested for my liking, so I left Ellis to it. She likes to make pets of mortals every now and again. I thought she would do the same with this one.” He shook his head as he glared out into open space. “He attacked her while I was away. Stole her ruby and tried to absorb all that magic it had soaked in over hundreds of years. The fool.”

Nenani ran her fingers over the opal set inside her belt, trying to imagine what hundreds of years of built up magic would feel like. Extremely unpleasant, she was sure.

“It should have killed him, trying to take in all that magic,” Bertol continued. “His aura turned black and his body began to flake apart like ash. But he somehow held himself together, though he was nothing but smoke and cinders and… I don’t think you could rightly call him human after that. Both Ellis and I tried to get the ruby back, but we were not a match for him as he was. I was lucky to have survived and without her stone she could not heal me. The smoke mage disappeared with the ruby and Ellis and I retreated into the hills to lick our wounds.”

“Aidus,” Nenani declared. Her hands rested in her lap, clutching hard enough to turn her knuckles white. “The mage you’re talking about. That was Aidus, wasn’t it?”

“I learned his name much later,” Bertol explained.,“when Ellis found him again after a long search. You must understand, without her stone she was no longer permitted to return to her home realm as it was considered a Fae relic. To return home, she would have to get her ruby back. But in the end it did not matter as her other crimes came to light. Her fellows discovered that she had taught me Fae secrets and that was the reason she was banished.”

He tossed a few more apples into his mouth and was silent as he chewed. “There is nothing like the vengeance of a Fae being. She wanted that mage’s blood. It did not matter that it was I that got her banished. She blamed the mage all the same. I’m not sure what she was planning to do once she had found him. He could and would kill her. Fae can live on forever, but that doesn’t mean they cannot be killed. They are not gods, no matter how much they may act as though they are. But when she did find him, she also found something else. Or rather… someone.”

He regarded Haiyer with a pointed look. “A baby.”

Haiyer pointed at himself, grinning wide. “Me?”

“Yes,” he said with a small smile. “You. It seemed as though the moment she found you, all thought of revenge dissipated. She said you had faint traces of green in you and that you needed protection, so she would watch over you.”

“Green?” Jae asked. “What does that mean?”

Bertol rolled his eyes. “Green. As in the forest. Nature. A green mage.”

Jae glanced at Haiyer and then back at Bertol with a heavily dubious expression. “…green mages? You think… Haiyer’s a green mage?”

“Not so much me,” Bertol replied. “Ellis. It’s what drew her to him. She claimed he was an unbloomed green mage. A rare thing these days and, to the Fae, a precious one.”

“Why would him supposedly being a green mage make her drawn to him?”

“Green mages are supposedly descended from the Fae.”

Jae blinked and then laughed loudly. Through his chortling, he asked “…are you saying Haiyer’s part fairy?”

“No,” Bertol growled. “Green mages are said to have once been descendants of Fae, but they are absolutely human. It’s their connection to the earth that attracts Fae to them. Same way dragons are drawn to fire mages or sea serpents to water mages. They share a common element, their primal sources are the same, and so one will attract the other.”

“And like fairies,” Jae shot back, “green mages are supposed to be nothing but children’s stories.”

“And like the Fae, green mages like to keep hidden and to themselves,” the giant retorted. He glanced up at Nenani and smirked. “The exact opposite of fire mages. Flashy blowhards.”

“Hey!” Nenani barked with a mouth full of apple.

“When she found this one as a babe,” Bertol continued, tapping Haiyer on the head, “she tried to take him back with her, away from Aidus’s clutches. But there was some sort of barrier that would not let her pass through with him. It seemed that Aidus had sensed her peeking about and had made precautions against her meddling. So she settled for watching. But when his mother finally escaped, Ellis was able to better help them, steering them towards clean water, away from poisonous plants. Once they were safe in Vhasshal, I thought her watch over the boy would end. But then the last time she went to visit him… she never returned.”

Nenani recalled back to her first magic lesson and how Maevis had suddenly pulled something invisible from the air and sealed it into a jar. For weeks now she had been harboring a slight suspicion of what was really inside that jar, but now there was no doubt.

“That was Maevis,” Nenani said, casting an apologetic sidelong glance at Jae. “He… he thought it was Aidus snooping around.”

“And so she has sat in that same jar ever since,” Bertol said with a sneer as he balled his hands into tight fists. “That damn magician…”

“Hey!” Jae snapped, pointing a warning finger at the giant. “Maevis is my good friend, and if I hear you say one nasty thing about him I’ll—”

Bertol laughed, cutting off whatever Jae may have said, and leaned into the boy’s space. Jae fumbled back with a start.

“You’ll what?” Bertol demanded. “Just because the King has made you a prince does mean that you possess any real power. You are still my prisoner and a human. And not even a mage at that. So don’t throw around commands as though anyone would listen.”

“Hey,” Jae said, squaring his shoulders. “Just because—”

“Your value is only that which the King has placed upon you,” Bertol said, cutting Jae off again.

The boy glared as his face colored in frustration and embarrassment. “Well… technically speaking I’m not a prince yet.”

Bertol waved a dismissive hand at him as he pulled away. “Close enough for my purposes. You could be as common as a mushroom so long you’re valued by the one in power.”

Jae frowned at the giant and looked up at Nenani.

“I think he just called me a mushroom,” he said. But when she did not respond or even acknowledge him, he grew concerned. It was then that he noticed that her hands were glowing. “Nenani?”

“I’m just wondering,” she said at last, staring off into space. “How different everything would be if… if you and Ellis hadn’t saved him. If you just let him die there.” A pause. “Papa would still be alive…”

Jae didn’t have an answer for her and he looked over to Bertol, a question in his eyes. In turn, the giant stared at the bubbled girl, but his face revealed nothing.

“It is useless to dream of what could have been or to mourn what never was,” he said at last. “The truth is both Ellis and I made a mistake that day. One I imagined cost many lives and much sorrow.”

“Do you feel guilty though? Even a little?” she asked, looking him in the eye. Her magic surged with every beat of her heart, and she could not keep from thinking of all the years she would have had with her father if it hadn’t been for the actions of the giant before her. And his fairy. Right then, she did not care that Ellis had protected her brother all those years. If Aidus had just died at Riftside, her father would be alive and her mother would have never been taken. Haiyer would have been born in the Southlands and uncle Halden would have not been killed. The fire would have never burned the fishing fleet. She would have her family. They would be safe and alive and whole and together.

Bertol just stared at her. “What use would my guilt be?”

His words were incendiary and the ever present fire deep within her began to rage and burn with an unbridled fury.

“But it’s your fault,” she told him. The anger within her surged like a pot boiling over and the glow of her hands began to spread up her arms and chest. It traveled up her neck and across her face and her eyes began to glow.

“N-Nenani?”

“Calm down,” Bertol snorted, reaching out and cupping the bubble between his hands. “There isn’t anything—”

“It’s your fault!” she yelled over him. The bubble filled with fire as she cried out and then abruptly it was gone. The shock of sudden weightlessness extinguished the worst of her flames and she dropped, only to fall into Bertol’s hands. Before she could recover enough to recall her anger, his fingers wrapped around her and held her firmly. His fingers began to glow a bright yellow that contrasted starkly against the angry orange and red of her fire.

“Now that is enough!” he said in a booming voice. His large face loomed above her and his eyes narrowed. “It’s generally ill-advised to be lighting fires within a small and enclosed space. Much like fire, people need to breathe air to live and without it they have the annoying habit of suffocating.”

She glared at him, trying to summon her fire again, but found it oddly difficult. Her arms were trembling, and no matter how deep she tried to reach inside to pull it out, she found her magic weakened and drained away. Looking at the glowing hands around her, she panted with sudden exhaustion. “W-what… what are you… doing… to me?”

“Keeping your flames down,” he growled. “Until you’ve calmed yourself.”

“You can’t do that!” Jae barked. He ran to the giant’s side and grabbed onto his vest, pulling with all his might. “Put her down! NOW!”

“Stop that,” Bertol snapped at him. “I can do as I please. Or have you forgotten you are my prisoners?”

A half-eaten apple struck the giant’s temple and he jerked his furious gaze down at Haiyer as the boy picked up another apple. “Leave my sister alone!”

“If you all don’t stop this right now,” Bertol growled, shifting his gaze between Haiyer and Jae, “I will bubble all of you!”

“Ellis said you were nice!” Haiyer cried as he threw another apple that struck the giant’s shoulder. “But you’re not at all! You’re mean. You’re an arse!”

Nenani renewed her struggles and tried to kick at the giant’s wrists. “And you smell really bad!”

“ENOUGH!” the giant cried, the sound echoing loudly in Nenani’s ears. His hands disappeared from around her, but instead of falling to the ground, she fell back against the now familiar walls of a bubble. Below her, she saw Haiyer and Jae both in bubbles of their own. Bertol got to his feet and stared at the three of them with fury as he tried to catch his breath.

“You will be quiet and meek as mice for the remainder of our time together,” he told them in a low and firm voice. “And then once Ellis is returned to me you will be someone else’s problem.”

Nenani was still too drained to attempt another escape and only wished she’d been re-bubbled with her blankets. Without their cushioning buffer, the bubble was quite uncomfortable.

“Um,” Haiyer spoke up hesitantly and shifted oddly within his confinement, “…I have to pee.”

Bertol glared daggers at the small boy. “Too bad.”

“But—”

“I said,” Bertol began, his face hard, “too ba—”

“BERTOL!” bellowed a voice from outside the tent, drowning out the giant’s words and startling all four of them. Nenani perked up with a grin.

“Farris?” She said with a hopeful voice and looked towards the open tent flap in hopes of catching a glimpse of him. Bertol’s gaze followed and his frown deepened.

“YE BETTER BE GETTING’ YER MOLDY OL’ ARSE OUT HERE NOW YE FUCKER!”

“Oh yeah,” Jae agreed with a grin of his own. “That’s Farris.”

With his eyes still fixed upon the tent’s opening, Bertol raised his hand and, in unison, all three of the bubbled humans rose as well. They followed after him as he left the tent, floating along as though pulled by invisible leads.

Once outside, Nenani was finally able to see exactly where they had been brought. Far off in the distance she could see snow-peaked mountains and below that a wide grassy valley of low sloping hills and sparse copses of trees. A heavy,frigid mist blanketed the ground, and as Bertol stepped out his bare feet made low crunching sounds against the frozen grass. Despite all the evidence pointing to the morning being especially chilly, Nenani did not feel cold at all. Thinking back, she realized with some confusion that she had been perfectly warm the entire time and yet there had been no fire to guard them against the morning frost.

Several yards outside the copse of trees where Bertol had pitched his tent stood Farris and Keral. Farris had exchanged his white apron for a long brown overcoat while Keral was dressed in his ranger’s uniform. In his hands he held a lantern that appeared very similar to the ones Maevis had created for the detection of Aidus’s magic. It was glowing and the sight gave Nenani pause, but she realized with relief that the light was the wrong color. The lantern glowed with a warm golden light rather than the pale violet of the warning beacons. As she studied it, Nenani could make out the shape of a person within and she blinked. Ellis, she realized. That was Ellis.

“If yer wantin’ yer damn fairy back,” Keral called out to Bertol. His voice was nowhere near as loud as Farris, but still managed to sound equally as cross. “Ye better hand over the lil’uns. Now.”

Bertol stopped at the edge of his camp to face the brothers with a hard glare. “You’re more than welcome to take them back. I’ll be glad of it,” he said. “As soon as ye release Ellis to me, that is.”

BONUS ART

#DUMPLING #G/t story #g/t #Giant/tiny #fantasy giant #Nenani #Jae #Haiyer #Bertol #Aidus

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

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Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt.28

Lance looked pathetic as he sipped his bag of blood. Coran had taken a small amount in a syringe to inject Lance with pain medication. Whatever had been in it sent Lance loopy. He’d turned into a babbling mess under Keith’s watchful eye, Coran playing along with Lance’s mumblings much to Keith’s annoyance. The man wanted his Mami. Normally Keith was against kidnapping senior citizens, but Lance was really hurting and he couldn’t stay by his side. Coran ushering him out the room once Lance had finally fallen asleep, blood bag still between his teeth as he did.

Walking on the balls of his feet in an attempt to keep his footsteps light, Keith made his way into the kitchen, Allura beaming at him as he entered

“Good news, I take it?”

“There’s nothing good about Lance being sick”

Coran clamped a hand on Keith’s shoulder

“Never you mind, boy. He’ll be fit as a fiddle once these symptoms subside”

“I’m sick of this. He’s sick. He’s like sick sick. What’s happening now?”

“Well, lets take a seat then have a little talk about it. Allura, tea if you will”

The two of them seemed comfortable in Lance’s home. It irked Keith that Allura knew where everything was, she using matching cups and saucers like Lance would have. Taking Lance’s usual seat, because fuck Coran and Allura, Keith was no in the mood for the tea placed before him

“It’s chamomile”

Like that meant something to him. Tea was tea. You put a teabag in and that was that

“It’ll help soothe your nerves”

“What nerves?”

Allura giggled at him

“Your nerves over Lance, silly. He’s going to okay”

“He didn’t look very okay”

And he hadn’t wanted to be alone. Keith really should be back in the spare room making sure Lance was resting soundly

“That’s because his body is going through changes”

He got that... and that Lance was a breeder, meaning his body was changing but he didn’t get it at the same time. Coran took over the talk

“Lance’s body is changing to bear children. It’s happening faster than we expected, but he’s perfectly fine”

“He’s not fine. He’s sick and he’s in pain. And you didn’t help by making him smell my blood. He didn’t want to. He’s been trying his hardest, and you made me trick him”

“Ah, yes, well, for his own sake that was unavoidable. He needs to eat, no matter how ill he feels. I’m sure you are a great help to him”

“I didn’t even know what to do. I barely wiped his back before he was apologising”

Keith crossed his arms and glared at the steaming teacup before him. Coran and Allura were both being annoying.

“That’s because he cares for you”

Pulling out the chair, Allura sat to his right. Keith letting his cranky side show

“No, he doesn’t”

“He does. You two have such remarkable compatibility with your quintessence”

“Enough with that! What does it even mean? Lance is a vampire and I’m a hunter. Everything’s gone to shit. First Shiro dumps me here. Then Lance keeps getting sick. Miriam has a fall. Luis admits he reported his own fucking he reported in his own brother. Lance turns into a bat. And now he’s sick again. I’m sick of it. He hasn’t done anything wrong. He tried to save my life and he’s suffering, while you and Coran decide now is the perfect time for a tea party!”

Keith could have punched Allura for still smiling. Why wasn’t she angry?

“I understand it must be hard. But we cannot stop the changes. He’s strong, you know. He was tortured when he was turned, by his sires. He’s kept everyone he’s ever met since at a distance. Allowing himself friendships, let alone having someone living with him, is a large step. You could say he’s waited the last 36 years for a friend that knew him and didn’t judge him for it. He’s got such a sweet soul. The transition would be easier with fresh blood, the life is so much more alive when fresh, but he will never feed from you without permission. He’d never feed from you when offered either. He thinks rather highly of you”

Allura didn’t seem capable of giving straight answers. She looked enough like Coran to also be a fae. They both had the same tapered ears, and aura around them. Not a glowy aura, but a feeling

“If he did, he wouldn’t have tried to hide he was sick”

“Keith, Lance fears burdening you more than he already has. He doesn’t want pity or sympathy. He doesn’t want to draw even closer to you. He fears you leaving, so he’s hardening his heart so it won’t hurt when you do”

“You make it sound like we’ve known each other for years, not weeks”

“Sometimes a day or two is all it takes to decided what a person means to you”

Their first few days together had been shit. So he’d always mean shit to Lance if he followed Allura’s chain of thought

“You are allowed to befriend him, and him you. Romantical feelings can develop quite rapidly when your quintessence is so compatible”

“What now? Who said anything about romance?”

Allura sighed softly

“I misspoke. I simply mean to say that if you wish to pursue a romantic relationship with Lance...”

“I don’t”

“It’s alright to...”

“I don’t have those feelings for Lance. Stop making this into something it isn’t. There’s nothing there. He’s weird and he’s dead. We’re stuck together so whatever we’re feeling is because of that. I wouldn’t date him, even if he was the last man alive”

“I see I’ve upset you. Lance is quite fond of you, to hear you speak like that would certainly upset him”

“Because I call him weird and dead?”

He pretty much did that every day. Lance ragged on him just as much in return

“Yes. He is very sensitive about such topics. Perhaps leaving him in your care was too much”

“Allura, that is enough. Keith, please understand that what we were trying to say is that even through friendship, or something more, we would support the two of you. Matters of the heart are a complicated thing. Lance has lost many people he cares about along the way and remembers them all. He is wise and he is brave. He worked out from early age that to survive he had to hide large pieces of himself away. With you, he can be more open about those things. You are a great presence in his life”

“You make it sound like he has feelings for me”

“Perhaps he does”

Keith shook his head. Their “friendship” was complicated enough as it was. He felt as if Coran and Allura were pressuring him into something with Lance, which was the last thing Lance needed right now. He was sick and vulnerable. Besides, he didn’t have those feelings for Lance. He didn’t know what he felt, but it was nothing like romance. He was still trying to cope with the changes in his body. Once Shiro returned, he was going to request a medical to find out what was going on with his heart. The racing and the weird beats weren’t normal. He’d been in plenty of heart racing situations, but none made his chest physically ache, like it did for no good reason when Lance was around. His moods were as up and down as Lance’s. He felt sure that Lance’s bite had done something to change him physically. It was the only explanation for what was happening with his heart.

“How long’s he going to sleep for?”

“A few hours. He needs the rest. These changes are hard on his body, as well as his mind. If he’s in pain, you can try a combination of ibuprofen and a few drops of blood. Blood will help his body absorbed the painkillers, so make sure you don’t give him straight painkillers, or they’ll be ineffective”

“Wait. You’re leaving me in charge of looking after him? I don’t know how to help him”

“You can’t take away the physical pain, but your presence will help keep him calm”

“He wanted his Mami, not me”

Coran sighed softly

“Poor Miriam. She’s such a kind woman. She’s always been on Lance’s side. Lance wouldn’t have told her about Luis...”

Luis deserved to stand in a nest of fire ants for what he’d done to his brother

“Nope. That reminds me, has he always been like that?”

“Yes and no. Lance’s family all went through quite a lot after Lance was turned”

“He asked me the other day if I could find out whether Rolo and Nyma are still around”

“Fortunately, they are not, as far as I know. For a period I did keep an eye out for signs of them, but the last records are from nearly two decades ago. They’ve either wised up, or they were executed. They were listed as violent offenders, and scheduled for termination, but they’d left my jurisdiction by then”

That was good. The world didn’t need Nyma and Rolo. Though Keith was annoyed he didn’t get to kill the pair of them himself

“I’ll let him know. Maybe Shiro will know something more”

Allura took a sip of her tea, before carefully saying

“Keith, think about it carefully before you decide. There are somethings in life that you can’t unknow. We have no information on if their deaths did indeed occur. Telling Lance that they may still be out there may not be the best thing for him right now”

“He needs some kind of closure”

“Which, without facts, isn’t possible right now. Now, we need to be leaving. I’m afraid our work never seems to be done. We’ll send someone to check in with you once the weekend has passed. I’m sure you two must have plans?”

“Pidge has plans. Lance is going if he isn’t fully recovered”

Allura laughed at him. She laughed, and seeing it was straight after Keith had spoken, the only way to interpret it was that she was laughing at him. The hunter still didn’t understand how she could giggle and laugh like it was nothing. Maybe human lives didn’t matter so much when you spent your time dealing with supernatural creatures

“You sound like a concerned parent. Oh, Keith. I think I quite like you”

“Then why do you keep making fun of me?”

That sobered Allura right up

“I’m terribly sorry. That was not my intent in the slightest. I do think you and Lance quite compliment each other. I am struggling to contain my happiness over him finding an understanding friend, someone who understands him and has such compatible quintessence... I never thought it’d happen for Lance, so I can barely keep from smiling. I do believe you two will become very close”

“Is that a fae thing?”

“A touch of foresight, and a belief. Please reach out if you require anything”

Keith didn’t want to. Not when Allura and Coran were both so damn weird. What happened to people talking simply, without all these added meanings that seemed to go over his head

“I don’t have a phone number... I was going to borrow Lance’s phone and call Coran, but then both of you showed up”

“Here we go my boy. Direct line. Call anytime and you’ll be answered”

Coran drew a business card out of seemingly nowhere. Passing it over, the business card was for the bookshop side of things. Some help that was... Coran didn’t seem the kind of man who’d be above ground all that often

“Thanks... are you sure... that he’s to be okay? All of this feels kind of sudden, and now you’re both suddenly leaving... What do I do if he gets worse? What if he like... snaps?”

“Keep him calm and keep him fed... Monitor that fever and know you’re doing the best you can for him right now”

“That’s it?”

“I’m afraid so. It’s quite disheartening that we cannot do more for poor Lance. We can only guide him through his change. Now, I have one other thing for you. I believe you had no money of your own, so I’ve set this up for your account. It’s activated and ready to go”

Coran pulled another card out of his pocket and passed it over. Keith’s eyes widening at the bank card in his name

“I would say I’m surprised, but I think I’ve hit my limit on surprises. Thanks for this, now I have to convince Lance to let me use his car”

“I’m sure you’ll have no problems. Now, as Allura said, we must be going. No need to stand, we’ll see ourselves out”

Keith felt like he should thank them, they had come to Lance’s aid, but he was also kind of preoccupied with everything Allura and Coran had said. Leaving him sitting at the table, Keith really wanted to call Shiro and fill him in on everything that happened. His brother was such a huge part of his life, but now he was too busy to be there. Besides, Shiro would probably worry over Lance, when there wasn’t anything they could do about the pain of his body changing... and Keith didn’t want to have a conversation where talking about Lance’s bits and pieces was likely to mean talking about what was happening below his belt line. That was icky. Not that Keith hadn’t shared a communal shower before, but thinking about Lance’s dick was sure to only leave him feeling weird around the man. Seeing him shirtless had been weird enough as it was. He probably needed to get back to Lance, so Lance wouldn’t wake up alone and scared. Being a vampire was a lot more complicated than Keith had spent all these years thinking it was.

With Lance sleeping, Keith had wound up on his bed playing with his camera. He’d sat, paced, sat, then paced until he grew frustrated, before throwing himself down on his bed and pulling out his camera. Blue had come to inspect what was happening to her human, then run off when Keith went to pat her. Cats were so weird. He thought Blue had warmed up to him, but apparently not. Staring at the photo on the screen, he wished he could have seen the cavern the way Lance had. He’d probably been able to differentiate between the lines of sediment with his weird vampire powers. Lance had seen enough to know there were fish down there, which Keith found weird. He could only hazard a guess that they’d been introduced down there as emergency food reserves, then lived down there undisturbed when the mine was decommissioned. The Third World War had been a major turning point in industrialisation. Technology coming along in leaps and bounds since. The hunter still wasn’t sure that the mine hadn’t made Lance ill, seeing Lance had waded out into what had to be freezing cold water.

Sighing to himself, Keith looked over to Lance. The tea towel across his forehead would need changing by now. The vampire still looked wiped out by fever, and the scent in the room had definitely grown sweeter. Climbing off his bed, Keith’s knees nearly buckled as he tripped over air. Clumsiness coming from nowhere. Taking the tea towel off Lance’s forehead, Keith jumped as Lance’s eyes snapped open, staring right at him

“Lance?”

Reaching out, Lance grabbed him by the wrist, Keith being pulled forcibly forward as Lance rolled away from him. The vampire’s eyes closing again as Keith tried to free his wrist, only to find Lance’s grip too tight. Not physically tight around his wrist, but his hand was firm as if his muscles had seized that way

“Lance? Hey, let me go”

Half kneeling on the bed, Keith continued to try freeing his hand. Lance seemed to have fallen back to sleep, Keith not getting his hand back anytime soon. His heart was doing that racing thing, Keith sighing loudly over now being trapped. He didn’t have a choice.

Against his will, mostly, Keith realised he was going to have to wait until Lance woke up again. Climbing up on the bed, he slipped under the blanket, forced to spoon around Lance’s sleeping form thanks to his hold. Keith wasn’t used to this. He’d bunked with Shiro before, even cuddled up behind his brother like this, especially after the loss of Adam, when Shiro’s PTS got to the point he couldn’t sleep alone. But that was Shiro. His brother. Not a big sick vampire baby, like Lance. Locking his jaw, Keith ignored the way Lance wriggled back against him. His slim body seemed to meld far too well against Keith’s... something he was acutely aware of given how insistent Allura had been that they’d be something more than whatever they were now. Friends hugged friends. Keith could totally see Hunk spooning up with Lance like this, even if Lance seemed more the type to spoon. He’d be a cuddler. Like a big dopey dog or something. With his eyes scrunched, Keith tried to calm his racing heart. There was nothing wrong with this. Friends hugged friends when they were down. There was no need to complicate things by over thinking. Nope. This was fine. Everything was fine... perfectly fine...

#oncebittentwicestupid #once bitten twice stupid #ashratherose

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daminwayne · 4 years

Link

Hello it is me I am back with an angst one shot. Above is the ao3 link but I will also post the fic below the line.

Summary: Dick is diagnosed with cancer, and Damian has a hard time understanding the situation.

It was easier to assess your enemy when they stood before you, present in their physical form. You could gauge how big of a threat they were, study their strengths and weaknesses and finally, visualize your attack. When you can see your enemy, you can formulate a solid plan and follow through with it. Whether it succeeds or fails is dependent on how you carry out your attack; do you misplace your footing? Had you under or overestimated the threat? Either way, the damage would be external. Your enemy stood before you, visible, ready for the quarrel.

Damian had trained his entire life to take down his enemies.

He was agile, swift and light on his feet. He was strong and calculating, and though he was a child–– only ten years of age––he could defeat enemies twice his size if he acted accordingly.

This enemy, however?

This enemy was different.

Damian could not fight it, even if he tried. It was entirely out of his control.

He wanted nothing more than to take it out, to beat it, to end it, but––

How could he, when it was impossible?

Damian Wayne was a smart child. He had learnt far more than the majority of his children had had the opportunity of learning, whether it was with regards to battle or math or vocabulary.

But ultimately he was just that: a child. He could only learn so much of the world in those ten years.

So he stood by his father’s side, glancing around between him and the doctor who stood across from them. His words made no sense. He was talking about whatever he had found as though it were a common enemy, a dangerous thug he had found in the street. Honestly? Damian could barely understand what he was saying.

“I don’t understand,” he whispered, leaning into his father.

Bruce raised his eyebrows in surprise at the gesture, seeing as he and Damian hardly shared any physical touch, but then his expression fell into something akin to pity. He looked to the doctor then back to Damian, taking a sharp breath before he answered.

“He’s going to beat it, Damian.”

“Beat what?” Damian pressed, furrowing his eyebrows together. How could you beat something you could not see? Something that wasn’t living or fighting? Their words confused him.

“Mr. Wayne,” the doctor called out, giving him a sad smile.

Bruce nodded at him, and the doctor knelt down next to Damian. “Do you understand what cancer is, Damian?”

Damian shook his head.

He had heard of it––a disease of sorts––but had never received extensive learning regarding the subject. It was not one of his mother’s priorities, nor his father’s.

“It’s a disease where some of the cells in a person’s body decide to rebel a bit and go rogue,” the doctor said slowly. “They kinda do their own thing, instead of cooperating with the rest of the body, like they should. When that happens, they can disrupt a lot of things. They can affect body temperatures, organ function, energy levels… it basically throws the entire body off balance.”

“Like a bad team player?” Damian asked, trying to make sense of his words. “If someone goes out of position, he risks everyone else’s life because he ruined the plan.”

Bruce gave him an odd look, but Damian ignored it.

The doctor continued. “Exactly like that. They disrupt the plan, and when the others need them to have their back, they’re gone. Everything falls apart. That’s not to say it can’t be fixed, though. If you help them get back in time, everything can get back on track. They suffer a bit before everything is good and dandy again. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Damian nodded.

“That’s what your brother Richard is going through right now. He’s gonna have to put up a fight, you know? He’s really gonna have to fight this guy. But he’s a strong young man, and he can definitely beat it. It won’t be easy, so he’ll definitely need your backup, yeah?”

“Richard is a very skilled man,” Damian said, lifting his chin in defiance. “He is very physically fit and used to be an acrobat. He worked with the police. He can beat anyone up.”

The doctor watched him for a moment, puzzled, before shaking his head. “This is gonna be different. He’s gonna change a bit, alright? This disease… it will affect his physical fitness. He won’t be as strong as before, not for a while.”

“I don’t understand,” Damian said again, feeling stupid. He could hear the words, he knew what they were saying to him but… He could simply not comprehend it. How could something just take down his brother like that? Illnesses were cured with medication. If you have a fever, you bring it down. If you get shot, you take the bullet out. They faced injuries every day in their line of work as vigilantes. But this was not an injury. Nothing had caused it.

“Why can’t you just medicate it?” He asked. “Like give him Tylenol or antibiotics. He wasn’t injured. Why does he have to stay at the hospital?”

“Damian,” Bruce said, his voice clipped. “That’s enough. So, Dr. Loving, what’s next? When can we take him home?”

Dr. Loving stood back up, clearing his throat. “We’re going to have run some more tests on him, Mr. Wayne, and then… I would like to get him started on the chemotherapy as soon as possible. Tomorrow, if I can. And I would like to keep him here for the first session to monitor his reaction.”

Bruce nodded. “Alright. Of course, whatever you think would be the best course of action. Can I––can we see him? It just… this all happened very suddenly. One moment I was speaking with him about work and the next he had crashed and… the last thing I expected to hear when I brought him here is that he…” his voice cracked. “Is this diagnosis.”

Dr. Loving lowered his gaze to the ground. “I know, and I’m very to sorry to have delivered these news to you. I’m happy you’ve brought him in, although I do wish he could have come in sooner for a checkup of the sort. You said he had not been exhibiting any odd symptoms before today?”

“He was feeling very faint,” Damian supplied. “I noticed when we went out on––when he took me out to ice cream and such a few times. He had reassured me that it was nothing, though. He took some ibuprofen as well because he was feverish for a short while. It was nothing severe. I don’t understand why you are making it sound as though Richard is dying.”

Bruce closed his eyes, clenching his jaw. “Dick will be fine, Damian.”

“I’m sure he will,” added the doctor. “You can see him before I send him down for a few more tests, if you would like. I will book a room for him in the inpatient unit, and see what I can do to kickstart his therapy.”

“Thank you, doctor. Please keep me updated.”

“I will.”

With that, Dr. Loving excused himself.

“Let’s go see Dick,” Bruce said, making his way down the long hospital hallway. Damian tagged along closely. “And Damian––this is not the time to play the public persona, alright? Just… Just keep to yourself, for now. Try not to say anything harsh in front of Dick.”

“Public persona? What do you mean, Father?”

“I know you’re a smart child,” Bruce began, keeping his eyes focused on the path before him, “and you understand what’s going on. The doctor knows what he’s doing, alright? You don’t have to take jabs at him and question his decisions. He will make sure Dick will be fine.”

Damian simply looked at his father in confusion, unsure of what he was referring to. When had Damian undermined the doctor’s decisions? He had simply been asking the questions on his mind. He was confused because he did not, in fact, understand the situation. Why was Father speaking to him in this way?

“I’m not,” he said in a small voice. “I was just asking him a few questions.”

Bruce only nodded briefly.

In that moment, Damian felt incredibly small and lost.

He was Damian Wayne, son of batman and grandson of Ra’s Al-Ghul. He was smart, determined, educated, hotheaded. He was––

He was scared, because he did not understand how Grayson could have gone from joking with him the one minute to collapsing on the floor the minute after. How he would not wake up and––and how his body shivered and trembled as he profusely sweat and––and how his temperature spiked and would not come down––

He did not understand how he was now bedridden, confined to stay in the hospital to ‘beat’ a disease and start a course of ‘therapy’ and––

No, Damian Wayne was many things, but he was not educated about this topic. About this situation. He did not know how to react.

He could do one thing, however, that he did best: act strong, no matter how he truly felt on the inside.

When they approached Dick in his hospital bed, Damian immediately noted that he was looking much better than before. His eyes were sunken, his hair was damp and pressed down to his forehead because of the sweat, but he was awake and stable. That’s what mattered.

“Grayson,” Damian greeted, rushing to his side. Bruce trailed in behind him. “You’re awake.”

Dick gave Damian a weak smile. “Hey, little D. Yeah, I’m awake. God, I don’t even know what happened there.” He looked up at Bruce, and his smile fell, replaced by a defeated expression. “The doctor told me everything.”

Bruce took a seat by his side, placing a hand over Dick’s. “You’ll be alright. I promise.”

“It’s gonna suck,” Dick said, shaking his head. “It’s really gonna suck, Bruce.”

“You’re ill,” Damian said, climbing over onto the small hospital bed. He snuck in close to Grayson. “But you’re not injured. So you don’t require any emergency surgeries, and none of your vital organs are injured. The doctors can medicate you. Advil can bring down your fevers, and I’m not sure what can stop the trembling. Maybe you need to be hydrated so you don’t pass out again.”

“Damian,” Bruce muttered, exhaustion lining his words. “That’s enough.”

Dick furrowed his eyebrows, looking between Damian and Bruce.

Damian looked at his father. “I’m just saying he will get better. He has no life threatening injuries, and he was not injected with any poison or drugs, so he will simply need some medication and then he can get back out of the hospital.”

“That’s not how the world works, Damian,” Bruce snapped, losing his cool. He gulped slowly, trying to regain his composure, and exhaled slowly. “I know you were taught that you just have to snap out of any illness and sickness, that you must bear through whatever injuries you acquire, but that’s not how the world works. There are serious illnesses that aren’t related to our––our work. Do you understand that? And just because you can’t see it doesn’t mean it’s not serious or that you can expect him to just snap out of it like that.”

Damian stared at Bruce dumbly, unsure of how to respond.

Dick’s eyes softened in understanding.

“Hey, Dami,” he whispered, barely able to muster strength into his voice. “I’ll be fine. Maybe you can’t see this bad guy and fight him by hand, but there’s other ways we can fight him. My own body is fighting itself, that’s why I became so weak. I’m gonna need more than a few meds, little D. It’s gonna be a few months at least of treatment.”

“A few months?”

“Yeah. Chemotherapy basically attacks those cells that are going out of line. But to kill them, it’s gonna have to kill other healthy cells too. So I’m gonna feel a lot worse before I feel better.”

Damian’s eyes widened. “Why can’t they perform surgery or––or directly medicate it?”

“Because it’s in my blood cells, Dami, and it circulates through my whole body. It’s not in one place.”

“So it’s like a poison? Is there an antidote?”

“Damian,” Bruce snapped again. “Enough with the questions. Let Dick rest.”

“It’s okay, Bruce,” Dick said, reaching out to his brother with his other hand. “He doesn’t understand what’s going on. He can ask questions.”

Bruce’s expression fell, perhaps in a sudden realization that Damian was, in fact, asking genuine questions about the situation. That he was not playing stupid, but that he was just a child who could not comprehend why his older brother had collapsed without visible injury or an easy explanation.

He felt stupid.

His youngest child was lost––lost and scared––and… and he’d been snapping at him. He’d assumed the worst of him.

In all fairness, Damian wasn’t usually such a… child. He was usually a smartass who liked to show off how skilled and knowledgeable he was. He hardly acted like the child he was. In this moment, however, Bruce was reminded that his youngest had seen so little of the world. So, so little.

And now his oldest would be fighting cancer.

Bruce fought to keep it together. He could not collapse crying in front of his boys.

Alfred was back at the manor, and last Bruce had checked, Tim had joined him in the cave to work on some files while they waited for their return from the hospital. Bruce would have to break the news to them.

He was dreading that.

“It’s not like a poison,” Dick was saying to Damian. “This is a chronic thing. It’s strong, and it’s gonna need a strong therapy to combat it. But guess what? I’m also strong. I can handle both of them going at it inside my body.”

“Like a battle between your cells?”

“Yeah, exactly. I can’t really partake in it, you know, but… I can handle it. I’ll do my best to fight it.”

“Of course you will. You’re Grayson,” Damian said, his voice softer than Bruce had ever heard. “You’re my batman. You can’t lose to anything.”

Bruce could see the tears glistening in Dick’s eyes upon hearing that statement.

“Will I have to be nicer to Drake because you’re ill?” Damian continued.

Dick began to laugh out of surprise. “What?”

“You know, to keep you happy and stress free.”

“Well… Yes. Yeah, of course.”

“I will do that, then. I promise. I will also let you cuddle with Titus and Alfred the cat to boost your mood. And I will prepare for you a smoothie every morning to provide you with the proper nutrients. Although, I may need Alfred’s help. And maybe we can watch more movies after I return from school! And…”

Bruce closed his eyes as Damian’s voice faded into the background.

The upcoming months would be difficult, but they would support Dick through it.

He would not lose another son––not to anything.

#ms #my writing #fic #my fic #angst #batfam #batfic #damian wayne #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #audreycritter #autumnhobbit

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